


he is the words that i can't find

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Team as Family, exy still exists, selective mutism, teenage dumbassery and shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: Andrew is just trying to make it through the rest of high school without murdering someone with an exy stick (most likely Kevin) or dying of boredom, whichever comes first, when a blue-eyed flight risk quietly transfers into their dead-end school and proceeds to disrupt Andrew's life as he knew it.A story about navigating the path to healing and recovery, miscommunications, messy feelings, family bonding through teenage dumbassery, and minimal exy-playing (sorry, Kevin).





	1. ANDREW

**Author's Note:**

> here's me hopping on the bandwagon and trying my hand at a high school au!! my plan for this one is filling it with as much disaster gay andrew and dumb shenanigans as possible. if you have a crazy stupid high school anecdote you'd like to share, pls do so. these kids are on the good times only train!!
> 
> i'll likely update tags and warnings as necessary, but the story should remain mostly lighthearted;  
> *nicky is aged up so he's an actual adult guardian for the twins - he was 22 when he took them in at 10yrs  
> *the twins were still separated at birth but reunited when they were eight - child abuse tag applies here  
> *neil's canon backstory is mostly the same but without the whole mob x yakuza mess  
> *riko unfortunately still exists but the moriyamas are just some rich family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew vs. the new kid

 

On Tuesday, their lunch table is noisy enough to start migraines. Their lunch table is usually loud, because Matt doesn’t have any concept of an inside voice and Allison was born to be heard by everybody and their grandma. But on Tuesday, it’s especially loud.

The focus of everyone’s attention is Aaron. He sits squashed between Renee and Andrew, looking more disgruntled than usual. He’s the only one other than Kevin eating his lunch. Or attempting to, anyway, because the rest of their merry little posse is intent on squeezing information out of him.

It is, of course, the new kid’s fault.

The new kid: Neil Josten, freshman, a short and scrawny little thing. Transferred in two weeks after school was back in session, drowning in ratty oversized clothing and avoiding everyone’s eyes. His mess of auburn curls did nothing to hide the scars on his face, nor his pretty blue eyes. He talks little and smiles even less. None of his efforts to fade inconspicuously into the student population mattered to the rumour mill—this school is a tiny hellhole and notorious for eating new kids alive. It’s not every day fresh meat lands on their doorstep. And Neil Josten, with all his averted gazes and mysterious air, is very, very interesting.

Aaron won the lottery and is in charge of tutoring the new kid in biology. Which is why their entire table is leaning towards him now, hoping to squeeze more information about Neil fucking Josten out of him.

Andrew finds this all more than a little bit annoying.

“So?” Allison says, tapping her long nails against the plastic tabletop. “What’s he like?”

Aaron shrugs. “He’s quiet.”

“Okay, yeah, but what else?”

“What do you want me to say? I only spent an hour with him in the library yesterday. It’s not like I know his entire life story.”

“True,” Matt says, “but you interacted with him for an entire hour more than anyone else has. There’s gotta be something to tell.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. They’re probably betting on the kid’s tragic backstory or something. Idly, he wonders if the betting pool for this is bigger than their previous bet(s) on Kevin.

Aaron heaves out a sigh like it pains him. It probably does; if there’s one thing Andrew has in common with his twin—the whole miserable genetics thing doesn’t count—it’s that they both despise being the centre of attention. “He chews on his pencil,” says Aaron.

“Cute,” Dan says.

“Oral fixation,” Allison guesses, smirking.

“I heard that he was put in pre-calc,” Matt says. “Pretty impressive for a freshman.”

“He’s good with numbers,” Aaron admits.

Allison claps her hands. “A pint-sized math whiz!” She leans across the table. “But that’s not enough. We need more. Is he right-handed? Ambidextrous? Does he wear contacts, or is that his natural eye colour? Does he doodle in his notebooks? Is his accent real? Is he into guys or girls or both?”

“Did he really move here from England?” Dan adds.

“Did he really get homeschooled since he was a toddler?” Matt wonders.

“Did he really get those scars from a knife fight in juvie?” Seth throws out from down the table.

Aaron stabs his fork into the burnt pasta. “I’m not helping you guys stalk the guy. He’s just trying to catch up on his courses. Leave him alone.”

Allison’s eyebrows disappear behind her perfectly straightened bangs. “Aaron Minyard, defending somebody? Who are you and what have you done with our resident grumpy cat?”

“Shut up.”

It’s futile, really, because Andrew’s pretty sure Allison has never shut up in her entire life. He picks up a shrivelled grape and flicks it at her. Bull’s eye. She turns her displeased scowl his way. Andrew stares back blankly until she looks away.

“People don’t suddenly transfer to the shittiest school in Buttfuck Nowhere, California for no reason,” Allison insists.

Everybody’s phone goes off with a new text. 

_ people except u _ , Andrew said.

“Oh, shut up, you little monster.”

“Neil does seem like he has a story to tell,” Renee says, cutting in before a real fight can break out. “I’m sure everyone’s curiosity will fade in a few weeks.”

Andrew has already lost interest. He swipes the lopsided brownie from Aaron’s tray, ignoring his brother’s glare. Sticking his earbuds in, he turns up the volume and drowns out the world.

 

 

//

 

 

He’s in their gym class. Because of course he is.

Andrew notices him slip quietly into the bathroom stalls and slip just as quietly back out once he’s changed. Long sleeves, a pair of shorts that show his sculpted calves and half of his firm thighs. Andrew forces himself to go back to tuning out Kevin’s muttering about talking to the sponsor teacher for the exy team as soon as possible. He doesn’t look in the new kid’s direction, but he’s aware, just the same.

It’s hard not to be. Josten stands a distance away from the rest of the class, tugging on his sleeves. He ignores the staring and the whispers. He looks like a lost child.

They’re doing soccer today. It’s marginally better than basketball. He parks himself in the goal. The teacher doesn’t bother trying to assign him to a different position. They’ve come to an understanding that Andrew will be left alone as long as he is putting in minimal effort into whatever hell activity is planned for the class. Slapping a soccer ball out of the way is much easier than blocking an exy ball with a racquet. 

Since Kevin is just about useless in every sport except exy, he’s hovering a few feet away from Andrew’s net. He has enough athletic coordination to kick a ball around but he’s a stuck up jerk who only deems his one chosen sport worthy of his skill and time. Bored, Andrew watches him fidget.

Then, it happens. 

The ball is intercepted and passed down the field. A blur in the neon yellow pinny of the opposing team streaks past the halfway line, dodging around the defense with ease. Never once does the ball roll out of control. In a blink, Neil Josten is in front of the goal. A flash of blue eyes. A single heartbeat.

His kick is anticlimactic. The ball veers off to the side, powerful enough but with awkward aim where it collided with the kid’s foot. Andrew doesn’t bother moving. Their team is clapping each other on the back for the good luck while the other team is groaning about how close they were to scoring. Kevin is frozen to the side.

Andrew’s eyes locks with Josten’s. Those icy blue eyes are wide, but his expression is still blank. No, not blank. Just masked. And isn’t that something, isn’t that familiar. He’s not breathing hard, but his shoulders move with each inhale. There’s something burning in his gaze. 

The teacher blows a whistle to resume the game. Josten breaks their staring contest and runs back to the other side of the field. Andrew watches his back grow smaller. Then he turns to Kevin.

He’s gaping. Andrew suppresses a sigh. 

“Did you see that?” Kevin demands. He’s still staring at the new kid. “Tell me you saw that.”

Andrew rolls his eyes at that. It doesn’t deter Kevin at all.

“We need him on the team,” Kevin says predictably. “He’s fast, he has good reflexes, and people will underestimate him because of his size. We need that speed. That element of surprise...”

Andrew waves a hand to get his attention. He signs a single word, “Aim,” because Kevin barely knows the alphabet and a handful of exy-related vocabulary due to exposure and stubbornness rather than a willingness to communicate with Andrew in this way.

“We can train him,” Kevin says confidently. “He’s clearly an athlete. That’s nothing practice can’t fix.”

“He’s a runner,” Andrew tells him, but Kevin only catches  _ run _ . He’s already turning back to watch Josten sprint on the far end of the field. Andrew glares in the new kid’s general direction. Then he sits back down in the net.

He hasn’t even spoken a word to the kid and he already knows that Neil Josten is going to be trouble.

 


	2. NEIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil vs. being the new kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucked around with age so here's what i have:  
> freshman - neil (so far)  
> sophomores - kevin, andrew, aaron  
> juniors - dan, allison, renee, matt, katelyn  
> senior - seth

 

Neil doesn’t really mind going to school. He likes learning. He likes the calm that settles over him when his mind is engaged in new information, when he’s able to concentrate on solving something instead of having his thoughts race around in an anxious circle that leaves him shaking and struggling to remember how to breathe.

The thing about school, though, is that there is  _ so much interaction _ . He hasn’t even made it to the end of his first week and he’s already so overwhelmed and tired of all the interactions required of him. There are his teachers, pulling him aside and trying to get a feel of where he’s at in the curriculum. There are his peers, introducing themselves loudly and asking him question after question. He’s glad for the lopsided sandwiches that Mr.  Hatford-no-it's-just-Stuart packs him because if he also had to deal with interacting with the lunch servers in the cafeteria, Neil might really lose it.

He can’t afford to lose it. He knows that he won’t ever be this lucky in his life ever again.

So he plays nice and keeps his head down as much as he can. He pretends he doesn’t notice the whispers and stares that follow him through the halls. The scars on his face itch. He focuses his attention on catching up on class material and tells himself he’s fine. He’s fine.

He claims a seat in the back of his pre-calc class, by the second door. His notebooks are new and pristine even after two full days of carrying them around. He doesn’t know how long that will last, but he finds himself hoping that it’ll be a while.

“Hi,” someone says to his left. Neil turns to find a girl smiling at him. Brown curls frame her face as she beams at him. It’s almost blinding. 

“Hi,” he says back awkwardly.

“I’m Katelyn,” the girl continues. “I’m sorry to bother, but I had an appointment last class and had to miss it. Do you mind if I take a picture of your notes?”

Neil wonders why she’s asking him of all people. He shrugs. “They’re not very good,” he says, but he slides his notebook over. She thanks him and turns back towards her desk. Neil is glad that the conversation seems to be over for now. 

It’s after the bell rings and class is dismissed that Katelyn tries to talk to him again. Neil tugs on a strap of his backpack, eager to leave and find some corner of the school to disappear in. There’s a stairwell by the east wing that almost nobody passes around lunch time. It’s dusty but at least it’s quiet.

“Hey, Neil, thanks for the notes. I like your little doodles in the margins.”

“... Thanks.”

“You know,” she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “The year’s only just started but this teacher likes to give lots of quizzes, so a couple of us talked about forming a study group. Do you maybe want to join us, too?”

Neil blinks at her. The thing is, Neil is really good with numbers. It’s why he’s in the advanced class and not the regular math class with all the other freshmen. But he’s never been invited to something like this before. Granted, he’s never been in school before, or in an environment where kids formed groups that other kids could be invited to. 

He’s never been given the choice to say yes before.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Katelyn says when he doesn’t answer. “But it’s an open invite, okay?”

Neil nods. He returns her wave goodbye and escapes down the hall as quickly as he can.

 

 

//

 

 

They corner him after school. 

Neil closes his locker and if it isn’t for his years of practicing his poker face, he probably would have jumped right out of his skin. Two boys are standing beside him, not quite trapping him against the lockers, but close enough so he’d have to shove one of them aside to leave. One of them is tall, dark haired, wearing a serious frown. The other one is shorter than Neil, blond and blank-faced. He vaguely recognizes them from PE this morning.

“Josten, right?” the taller one says. 

“Yeah,” Neil responds cautiously. He’s a little freaked out by the intensity of both their stares. 

“You haven’t joined any clubs yet, have you?”

“No—”

“Good. Were you on any sports teams before? It doesn’t matter. I know what I saw today, and it’s talent—”

“Wait, what—”

“—even if you clearly need training, but it’s workable. I’ve decided,” the boy says, chin up and green eyes gleaming, as if he’s royalty declaring a new law, “that you’re going to play on our team.”

Neil stares up at him. He turns to the other boy, who meets his gaze with a bored expression. “What the fuck,” he says before he can stop himself.

“Having extra-curricular activities on your transcript looks good,” the tall one continues. “And our team is good. We made it to semi-finals last year. It’ll be better with you on it. Your speed is going to be a great asset.”

Holding up his hands, Neil says, “Okay, back up for a minute. I don’t—Who even are you? What makes you think I want to play on a team with you?”

“I’m Kevin. This is Andrew.”

Neil looks between them. Recognition dawns. He might be the new kid, but even he’s not immune to the gossip flying through the halls. Particularly about people as infamous as these two. 

Kevin Day, star striker of the exy team, media darling and skilled enough to be rivals with Riko Moriyama. He’s lauded as the hero of Palmetto High, but rumours say he’s got a racquet up his butt. Looks like the rumours are true.

Andrew Minyard, on the other hand, is a whole other situation. His small size might fool you at first glance, but his deadly glare will chill you to the bone. No one has ever heard him say a word, but everyone knows to stay out of his way or you’ll regret it. 

Neil knows that if he wanted to have a quiet high school life, he should stay as far away as possible from these two. He opens his mouth to tell them to go away.

“You’re on the exy team,” is what comes out instead. 

A gleam enters Kevin’s eyes. “You know about exy? Have you played before?”

“A-A long time ago, but—”

“Come to try outs next week.”

Irritated, Neil scowls at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Kevin frowns harder. “I’m trying to recruit you.”

“Really? Because it feels like you’re forcing me into something I don’t want to do.”

“You don’t want to play exy?”

Neil looks away. “I didn’t say that,” he mutters.

“Then come to try-outs. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Andrew snorts. The first reaction he’s had the entire conversation. He lifts his hands from his pockets, and Neil’s eyes widen.

_ Your promises mean nothing, _ Andrew signs. He rolls his eyes when Kevin shoots him a confused frown. When he looks back to find Neil staring at him, he raises an eyebrow. Neil forcibly tears his eyes away.

“Next week,” Kevin is saying, “make sure to be there. We’re aiming for championships this year, and if you’re on the team, we’re definitely going to make it.”

“You’re awfully confident about me, considering you’ve never seen me play.”

Kevin stares him down. “I know talent when I see it.”

Neil watches him walk away, heart rate unable to slow down. He catches Andrew’s eyes again. He can’t read the older boy’s expression. He doesn’t move when Andrew raises a hand and gives him a two-fingered salute. 

He can’t know. He can’t know that Neil speaks ASL. He hasn’t had a need to in so long, but it’s not like other people can’t know the language, too. It just caught Neil by surprise. Maybe the guy is hard of hearing. Whatever. It’s not any of Neil’s business. 

He doesn’t know why Kevin is so determined to have Neil on the team. He doesn’t know why just because Kevin’s seen him run means he’d be great at exy. He doesn’t know why his chest tightens at the thought of playing exy again—except he knows exactly why. He just doesn’t know if Kevin knows, too. It’s unsettling, knowing he’s been singled out like this, so soon. But it’s just a high school sports team. Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe he’s letting his paranoia run away from him again.

It doesn’t mean anything, Neil tells himself. He doesn’t even have to show up. 

_ Just keep your head down. You are Neil Josten, anonymous. _

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neil: i'm fine  
> narrator: but he was not, in fact, fine


	3. ANDREW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew vs. initiating incidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter! no warnings that i can think of for this one.  
> prepare for the one and only fabulous nicky!!

 

“Hey, isn’t that the new kid?” Matt says when the exy-team hopefuls are gathered in the court.

Andrew follows his gaze, and yup, there’s Neil fucking Josten. He’s hovering at the edge of the group, hands twisted into his shirt, staring vacantly at the far end of the court. He looks ready to run out the door.

“Good. He’s here,” says Kevin. He’s flexing his left hand even though they’re technically not required to play today. If the court is open, Kevin is there.

“Did Kevin already sink his claws into the new kid?”

“He’s got talent,” Kevin says, and Andrew fights the urge to hit him. 

The starting lineup from last year are welcome to join the newbies for warm up drills. Andrew leaves that to the more eager losers of the team. Wymack will probably make him stand in goal to test their abilities—more like, crush their dreams of glory, if being yelled at by exy prince Kevin hasn’t already done so—but Andrew will take as much nap time as he can get.

He stretches out on his uncomfortable seat in the stands. He can hear the sound of exy balls hitting glass and cones being knocked aside. Feet pounding on the ground. Wymack’s whistle. Kevin’s annoying voice. Beside him, Aaron has one of his heavy science textbooks spread out over his knees. Nerd.

“Why are you even here,” Aaron says, “if you’re just going to be useless?”

Andrew doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he replies, “I don’t see how reading about blood cells is helpful on the court.”

There’s a pause as Aaron puts together his signing. Then a huff. “At least I’m being productive, asshole.”

The answering middle finger needs no translation.

He barely dozes off for half an hour before someone is yelling up from the court. “Hey, Minyard!” Dan’s voice carries through the air with ease. No wonder she’s voted captain despite not being a senior. “Get your butt down here!”

Andrew considers pretending he’s too deeply asleep to bother. His brother, unfortunately, likes to watch him suffer. A foot nudges his shin. 

“She only called for one twin,” Aaron says. “And it’s not me.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Andrew climbs to his feet. He takes his time strolling down the steps to court. They’re lined up and looking more ragged than they began. Call Wymack a saint for willingly associating with reject teens like them but he sure does take exy seriously. It’s a good way to weed out the Kevin Day groupies at least.

“Where’s Renee?” he asks. He uses the twisty ‘R’ sign he’s designated for the junior’s name. He usually wouldn’t bother, but it’s less of a hassle to assign the team their own sign name than it is to motivate everyone to take ASL classes. If Renee wanted to do that out of misguided kindness, well, that’s her own free time she’s wasting.

“Renee’s at a church thing with her mother,” Dan supplies.

“Bummer.” They just stare uncomprehendingly at him. The new recruits are starting to stare, too. Fast learners, aren’t they.

“How much would it cost me to get you in goal for the next hour or so?” Wymack asks him.

Andrew casts the new recruits a cursory glance. He catches some incredulous stares—first mistake is to judge him by his size and his muteness. The ones avoiding his gaze must have at least heard his reputation. Only one pair of eyes meets his unflinchingly.

They’re a brilliant, icy blue. Of fucking course.

He pulls out his phone. He takes his time, enjoying the fidgeting of everyone else on the court. Kevin looks like he’s about to open his mouth and blabber something awful, but Matt elbows him in the gut. 

_ cut my laps in half for 4 wks. and one tub of b&j. _

Wymack squints at the screen, and then sighs, pure exasperation. “Two weeks. Any flavour in particular, brat?”

_ surprise me _

“Cheeky little shit,” Wymack mutters. He claps his hands. “Alright, someone get him his gear, the rest of you, one lap around the court. Go!”

When Andrew drags himself into the goal, the recruits are lined up and waiting. He sizes them up. Not particularly impressive. Sad for Coach and Kevin. Andrew exerts only about two percent of his energy. It’s not hard. They’re tired from Kevin’s drills, and most of them aren’t trying for striker positions. He bats aside their attempts lazily. It’s terribly boring. Even when some of them start throwing harder, visibly frustrated, Andrew intercepts their shots and slings it back at their feet. 

Until someone decides to throw the ball right at his head. 

Andrew catches it, just barely, and only because his ingrained reflexes are sharp enough. He has no love for the sport but he won’t deny his own affinity for it. He slams it away from the goal, back towards the one who threw it. A pair of wide blue eyes catches his, a challenge clear as day.

Josten cocks his head.  _ Going to get serious now?  _ screams from that simple movement.

Andrew refuses to give him a visible reaction.

When Josten comes at him again, he’s ready. He moves more than he has the last twenty minutes. The kid is fast, indeed: sprinting down the court chasing after the ball when Andrew flings it back out there, then running right back and taking shot after shot. He shoots wildly, aim piss-poor, but there’s a certain calculation going on behind that obstinate set of his mouth, even if his execution can’t quite match up. Andrew finds himself sweating. Close calls with bruises.

He’s overwhelmed with a sudden, violent surge of hatred.

He hates this kid, a question mark with impossible stamina, a wild card who dares to make Andrew  _ try _ . He hates him for making Andrew hate.

The ball bounces off the glass. Andrew catches it and, giving into spite, whips it all the way down the court. Heads swivel as they track the ball’s trajectory. The lines on opposite goal lights up in red.

Silence. Then:

“Holy fucking  _ shit, _ Minyard!”

“Why can’t he do that during games?”

“Idiot, it’s only because there was no one in goal.”

“I thought he was going to take that kid’s head off.”

Amidst the chaos, Andrew locks eyes with Josten again. He raises two fingers to his temple and gives him a mock salute.

_ Better luck next time. _

He doesn’t stick around for a response.

 

//

 

Nicky is in a good mood.

He’s home early, which isn’t unusual but much more occasional than Nicky would have liked. Andrew doesn’t really care and he knows that Aaron feels the same, but he has to admit that Nicky’s cooking is better than takeout or microwaveable meals. Even if he tends to add more spices than Andrew and Aaron can handle. 

He’s humming as he moves about the kitchen, a happy tune that Andrew recognizes as one of those bubblegum pop songs playing on repeat on the Top 40s station. Nicky is generally a cheerful person—the complete opposite of Andrew and his brother—and an optimist despite the world trying its damnedest to prove him wrong. (If he was a better person, Andrew would be impressed by his cousin, who not only clawed his way out of a shitty family situation but willingly volunteered to take care of a pair of shitty brats when he had every right to run the other way. Nicky is strange. But Andrew has decided six years ago to stop trying to make sense of the stubborn anomaly that is Nicky Hemmick.) The humming, though. That’s—not new, exactly, but Nicky’s musical inclinations are usually obnoxious in an attempt to provoke a reaction out of them. This is quieter. Private. Almost soft. He hasn’t even tried to wheedle them about their day yet.

Andrew narrows his eyes. He recognizes this pattern. 

He keeps quiet as he watches Nicky plate their casseroles. He’s still humming. Andrew tugs at a loose thread in his sleeve. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he just had a good day. One of Nicky’s jobs involves kids and his cousin is one of those weirdoes that actually likes interacting with screaming children so maybe something ‘cute’ happened there.

When they all start digging in, Nicky is back to his usual chattering self. He talks about his commute to the daycare, his day at the daycare, then his trip to the community centre, then his job at said community centre. His smile grows  a little bigger at that part. Andrew flicks a glance over at his brother, but Aaron has his phone out on the table next to his plate and is blatantly not paying attention. Andrew holds back a sigh. He has to do everything himself.

Just as Nicky is starting to complain about the inflated price of gas again, Andrew snaps his fingers and interrupts him. 

“Spill,” Andrew demands.

Nicky puts down his fork to sign along with him, even though he can just speak at Andrew like Aaron does. A habit he’s had ever since he signed them all up for ASL classes when they first moved under the same roof, one that was enforced when he started teaching sign language at the centre. 

“What are you talking about?” Nicky asks.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

Andrew sneers at him. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“I’m not lying!”

Aaron, having finally torn his gaze away from his phone, takes one look at their cousin and goes, “You got a new boyfriend.”

Nicky squawks. He blushes so easily despite his dark skin. Having said his piece, Aaron goes back to scrolling through gaming blogs or something equally boring. Andrew keeps his gaze on Nicky.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Nicky says. 

“You want him to be,” Aaron says without looking up.

“Okay, hey. I’m a single gay man with working eyes, alright? He was real polite and had the cutest lil’ German accent and looks like he regularly works out at the gym, you know what I mean? Excuse me for fantasizing.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Aaron mutters.

“Besides,” Nicky continues, “it’s just a fantasy. I’m way too busy to juggle a relationship right now. You guys are all the boys I need in my life,” he adds, winking.

“Gross.” Aaron wrinkles his nose, echoing Andrew’s sentiments exactly.

Andrew waves his hand to grab Nicky’s attention again. “Tell us if your crush changes into something else.”

Nicky blinks. “Since when are you so invested in my love life? Or, really, sex life, because ain’t nobody got time for tha—”

“Shut up, Nicky.” Andrew’s movements are sharp. “Tell. Us.”

“Okay, yeah, I will. But you don’t get to complain when I do! You asked for it!”

Andrew rolls his eyes. He picks up his fork, signifying the end of the conversation. Nicky just smiles at him.

“Let’s all eat before dinner goes cold. I put too much effort into making it for it to be reheated by microwave!”

It’s later, when they’re doing the dishes—Nicky cooks, the twins clean—that Aaron clears his throat pointedly. He refuses to take the plate until Andrew looks at him.

“Don’t ruin this for him,” Aaron says. 

“Ruin what?”

Aaron grimaces at the water Andrew’s hands are flicking at him. “Nicky. His relationship, whatever. His entire life is taking care of us and it’s—He just. He deserves to be happy, too.”

Andrew turns so he is facing his brother. He signs slowly, bored expression in place. “Since when do you care?”

“Does it matter?” Aaron retorts.

“You never gave a shit about who Nicky fucks in his spare time. Don’t pretend to have a heart now.”

“Fuck you.” Aaron’s fists are clenched in the dish towel he’s holding. “I might not be good at paying attention but at least I’m not a self-absorbed asshole like you. At least I recognize that we’re the entire reason Nicky’s life is a tragic sinkhole. So maybe I want him to be happy for once in his life.”

“Didn’t you hear him? He says he’s happy taking care of us.”

“You believe that?” Aaron snorts. Andrew doesn’t, actually. It’s just so easy to rile his brother up. “He got stuck with us because he’s got some misguided sense of duty and we’re forcing him to work three jobs and pay taxes and pick up after our mess. We’re ruining his life.”

Andrew smirks. “You should be talking your issues at Bee, not me.”

“Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t even going to mention what you did the last time Nicky was interested in somebody. That was fucking low, even for you.”

Silence cuts across the kitchen. There are the muffled sounds of Nicky moving about in the bathroom, the hum of the fridge, distant footsteps from the upstairs neighbours. All of that is like white noise buzzing at the back of his head. Andrew stares at Aaron. He remembers, again, that Aaron didn’t know. He didn’t know that the last time Nicky was interested in someone—and the last, and the last—his heart wasn’t the only thing broken.

It’s not Andrew’s fault that his cousin has terrible taste in men. And it’s not Andrew’s fault if Aaron didn’t understand that Andrew was just trying to protect his family.

“Just let him have this,” Aaron says, resignedly. 

Andrew doesn’t bother replying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i'm making it clear enough through my writing that andrew is explicitly speaking in sign or using his phone so far/unless otherwise specified. i'm opting to use quotation marks in andrew's pov because sign is his main language.


	4. NEIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil vs. the palmetto high foxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neil meets the team!  
> no warnings. they just say "fuck" a lot because they are Teens.

“You sure you don’t want to eat lunch with us?” Katelyn asks.

Neil fiddles with the strap on his bag. She’s asked him every class since she borrowed his notes. He’s turned her down every time. The thing is, Katelyn is  _ nice. _ She greets him before class and discusses the lessons with him and doesn’t seem bothered when his replies are barely full sentences. She’s nice. Neil has no idea what to do with that. 

“I brought my own,” he replies. “Thanks, though.”

“Okay,” she says easily. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

He won’t, but he waves back at her as she heads down the hall to her friends. He turns around and nearly runs right into someone. A very tall, solid someone.

“Heya, Neil.”

Neil backs up. “Matt Boyd. Number four, starting backliner for the Palmetto Foxes.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” the guy says, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I usually just go by Matt, though.”

Neil blinks up at him. Then he turns to the much smaller person standing next to Matt. For a moment, he wonders if he’s experiencing deja vu. But this one isn’t wearing all black like last time, and his expression isn’t blank like last time.

The Minyard twin drags his gaze from the corner Katelyn disappeared to and frowns at Neil. “You’re friends with Katelyn?” he says.

“No,” Neil says honestly. “We share a class.”

“You seem like you get along pretty well,” Matt comments.

Neil shrugs. “She’s very friendly.”

The twin scowls at him. He opens his mouth, but Matt pats his shoulder and cuts him off. “Don’t worry about him, Aaron here’s just had a crush on Katelyn since forever.”

“Matt—”

“Anyway! We’re not here to grill you on your relationship with cheerleaders—though if you want to share, that’s cool, too. We wanted to invite you to our lunch table.”

Neil wonders why everyone is so intent on asking him to lunch. Did they want to share? He doesn’t think Stuart’s sandwiches are going to be very popular. They’re edible and filling, but cooking is not one of the skills the former FBI agent possesses. 

“Why?” he asks.

“To welcome you to the exy team, of course!”

“What?”

Matt grins broadly at him. “Coach is going to post the results officially this afternoon but we’ve already got the heads up. You’re in! Congrats and welcome to the team, buddy!”

“Are you allowed to tell me before the announcement?”

Matt waves a hand. “Coach doesn’t care. We only have a handful of new recruits this time around—you’re one of two striker subs, and we got a new backliner and goalie, but that’s about it.”

“Why aren’t you inviting the others to lunch, then?”

“We tried. Robin’s hiding somewhere, and—okay, for the record, I have absolute faith in Coach’s choices but Jack and Sheena? They’re—”

“Complete assholes,” Aaron supplies.

Matt points at him. “Yes, that. At least they seem like they can actually play and aren’t just members of the Kevin Day Fanclub, so.”

“There’s a Kevin Day Fanclub?”

“You don’t wanna know, man.” Matt swings an arm around Neil and starts to steer him towards the cafeteria. “Let’s introduce you to the rest of the crew!”

The rest of the crew turns out to be a full table by the windows facing the courtyard. Neil is nudged into the seat between Matt and Aaron. As soon as he sits down, a blonde girl on the other end leans forwards and calls out to him.

“Glad you finally deemed us worthy of your presence, fresh meat.”

“My name is Neil,” he says.

“That’s Allison,” Matt tells him. “She knows your name and probably everyone else’s in this school. She might look like Malibu Barbie, but don’t let that fool you—she’s absolutely ruthless and bloodthirsty.”

“Aw, thank you, Matty.”

Neil squints at her. “Dealer?”

“Do you remember people based on their positions on the court?”

“Uh.”

Multiple phones go off at once. Neil twitches, but no one looks surprised. Beside him, Matt lets out a laugh. He tilts his phone to let Neil see.

**[Andrew]:** _great another exy junkie_

Neil blinks. He glances across the table where Andrew is sitting, nonchalantly fiddling with his phone. Andrew catches him looking. His bored expression doesn’t budge.

“That’s Andrew,” Matt says. “He doesn’t speak but if you’re lucky he might take the time to write out the entire F word at you.” Andrew lifts his chin in approval, and Matt grins. “I hope you’re good at memorizing, Neil, because we’ve all had to pick up a few signs here and there to work with Andrew.”

Neil nods. He doesn’t bring up the fact that he can carry whole conversations in sign. 

“Beside him is Kevin Day, infamous exy prodigy and resident exy-stick-up-our-butts—”

“Shut up, Boyd,” Kevin says. “If you’d all take my advice, you’d all be playing much better already.”

Under his breath, Aaron mutters, “Exhibit A.”

Matt continues the introductions as if Kevin hasn’t interrupted. “And you know Aaron, bio nerd, slightly less of an asshole than his brother.”

“Fuck you.”

“Point proven, thank you. Next up, we have our lovely captain—”

“Dan Wilds,” says the dark-skinned girl sitting beside Matt. “Though if you didn’t remember from tryouts, know that I’m heavily side-eyeing you.”

“I remember,” Neil says.

“Good.” Dan leans across Matt’s tray and plops down her fruit cup in front of Neil. “You can have this because, no offense, but your sandwich is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Um.”

The girl sitting next to Andrew leans forwards. She’s smiling gently, but her eyes are sharp as knives. Neil focuses on the rainbow highlights in her hair instead.

“I’m Renee,” she says. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Neil.”

“Renee’s a sweetheart,” Matt pipes up, and the table makes a noise of general agreement while Renee tucks her hair behind her ear shyly. “Seth at the end there, unfortunately, is the exact opposite.”

“Fuck off, Boyd.” Seth spares Neil a glance and must be unimpressed because he gives a snort and goes back to watching something on his phone.

“And that's everybody you need to know!”

Neil picks at the crust of his sandwich. “Do you guys always eat lunch together?”

“Usually,” says Matt. “This is basically the exy table. Legend says the original team had to fight the football team for it, so we have to honour their effort.”

“I see.”

Allison stabs at a piece of chicken in her salad. “So, tell us about yourself, Neil. Where did you come from? Who are you?”

“I’m nobody.”

“No offense, but that’s bullshit. Everybody is somebody. So, spill.”

Neil shrugs. “I’m really not that interesting.”

“Where did you go before transferring here?” Renee prompts before Allison can ask something probably a little too personal.

“All over, I guess,” he says cautiously. “My mother... her work required her to travel a lot.”

“So you’ve moved around the States a lot?”

“Yeah.” He pauses, unsure if it was wise to add more. But he’s not supposed to be hiding anymore. He’s not a clean slate anymore—he’s allowed to have history. To make history. “I—we—stayed a bit in Europe, too.”

“Really? So are you multilingual?”

“Uh, I guess.” Neil decides he’s had enough of being interrogated. “Why aren’t there seniors on the team?”

“Seth’s a senior,” Allison says.

“Somehow,” Aaron mutters.

Seth glares. “You wanna fucking go, Minyard?”

Across the table, Andrew stabs his plastic fork into his tray. It cracks in half. The table hushes briefly. He doesn’t even look up from the piece of brownie in front of him.

“Jesus,” Seth says, “forgot you two were buy-one-get-one-free.”

Renee engages Andrew in a conversation, turning to face him so she could sign. Her movements are slightly awkward and stilted, but her vocabulary is decent. Andrew responds to her in kind. Neil tries not to stare.

“We used to have a few more,” Matt explains. “But then Kevin transferred over, and he convinced Coach to actually whip us into shape. We were never a big team, y’know? So we’d always be matched up with nearby private schools first, and those schools—”

“They literally buy their talent,” Dan says bitterly.

“Like Evermore,” says Neil.

“Yeah, like Evermore,” nods Matt. “So we got used to sucking, and most of those seniors were just playing recreationally, anyway.”

Kevin looks highly offended that anyone would dare to treat exy as a casual sport. “If they can’t handle the training, they don’t deserve to play.”

Neil agrees with him, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He listens to the stories the team has to share of past games, the gossip about their opponents, the traditions they have to uphold as a baby sports team. He looks around at this ragtag team—Kevin waving a forkful of quinoa in the air as he launches into a lecture that only Matt is listening to for the sole purpose of arguing with him, Allison and Dan cackling about some inside joke, Aaron and Seth snarking at each other, Renee and Andrew carrying on a conversation about zombie apocalypses of all things—and he lets himself wonder. Maybe. Maybe he can have this. For however long this will last, before, like everything in his life so far, things inevitably go wrong.

It’s later, after everyone disperses for class and Neil is already standing in front of his locker, that he realized he’s been followed. His shoulders stiffen and his guard goes up as he turns.

Andrew stares at him impassively. He doesn’t bat an eye at Neil’s defensiveness. He just holds out a hand. When all Neil does is stare at it uncomprehendingly, Andrew huffs and pulls out his phone. Waving it in the air, he points at the side pocket on Neil’s bag where he keeps his phone tucked out of sight, out of mind.

Stuart got him a phone the day after they moved in. It’s nothing remarkable, a functional smartphone, barely two contacts listed and a few apps that Neil downloaded within the first five minutes of holding the phone because Stuart insisted that’s what teenagers did. Neil has only ever owned burner phones, and never for longer than a week. Still, he promised to keep it charged and carry it around with him. So in the forgotten side pocket of his bag it goes.

Awkwardly, Neil digs out the phone. Andrew snatches it out of his hand. Neil watches, his curiosity getting the better of him. Abruptly, Andrew shoves the phone back at him. 

The messages app is open. A new message to  **andrew** :

_ paranoia is not an attractive look on you _

Neil frowns. “I’m not paranoid.”

The look Andrew gives him is so flat, Neil has to hold back a wince. Done with the conversation, Andrew turns and walks away. He doesn’t glance back.

Neil’s just tore his gaze away from the corner where Andrew disappeared when his phone vibrates with another text. 

**[andrew]:** _ get a lockscreen for your phone dumbass _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i went to the tiniest school in the district and our soccer team did go up against the private school teams a lot, but apparently our team got really good as a result? we won some trophies and banners and stuff so it's pretty cool but i didn't really pay attention because a) i don't get soccer and b) young bean should have known that the reason she didn't get it when her friends were gushing about them golden soccer boys was bc honey, ya ain't straight


	5. ANDREW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew vs. little musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll admit this is a bit of a filler chapter but there's some andrew+renee friendship so yay! i'd die for renee walker if she'd let me

 

Andrew considers dropping out of PE. 

Kevin is talking Neil’s ear off about exy even though they’re supposed to be doing volley drills in groups. Even worse is that Neil appears not only to be listening but actively talking back. 

He should have skipped class. He would, too, but he made a deal with Nicky to be a good kid after what happened last year. Or try, anyway. Minyards are never that lucky. He’s been on a streak so far this year though, so out of morbid curiosity he’s waiting to see how long this will last. He knows sat least Aaron is doing a countdown, too.

School is easy. Andrew is smart; he knows it, the teachers know it, everybody and their grandma knows it. But school is boring. And Andrew does not have the patience for boring things. 

Kevin is boring, usually. All he ever talks about is exy. He doesn’t even seem to notice the girls and boys drooling after him because he’s so busy thinking about fucking stickball. Predictable. Pathetic. But Kevin didn’t flinch when Andrew slammed his fist against the wall in order to get a turn to talk. Kevin didn’t try to replace Andrew’s personality with his muteness. Kevin didn’t pretend that Andrew’s sharp edges could be smoothed over with niceties and friendship.

Kevin looked Andrew in the eye and told him to believe in him. 

Andrew wasn’t made for believing in things, though. He’s tried, when he was younger and move naive. Kids are suckers for believing: clap your hands if you want to save faeries, close your eyes and make a wish on a star—but what they don’t tell you is that faeries are little lying assholes and that star you’re wishing on has been dead for a long, long time. Andrew has learned quickly that believing things got you nowhere. The only thing you could rely on was yourself. 

He saw the same jagged rawness mirrored in Kevin’s eyes, but unlike Andrew, Kevin still believed that if he tried hard enough, things would turn out in his favour. It’s almost entertaining, watching him try so hard even though Kevin’s shit at teamwork. He’s bound to fail. But something about Kevin’s stubbornness sparked something in Andrew. The one percent chance that Kevin’s bullheaded faith might just succeed.

Andrew didn’t believe in anything but the certainty of death. Still he agreed to humour Kevin for the time being. If only for a change in the monotonous rhythm of boredom.

He’s really regretting it now.

The teacher is looking over at the three of them, standing around in the corner doing nothing. Kevin and Neil are bickering, something about some pro striker’s stats last season, and Andrew is idly spinning the ball in his hands. He sighs when he accidentally meets the teacher’s eyes. 

Kevin and Neil are too deep into conversation to notice Andrew pull his arm back. He whips the volleyball straight at Kevin’s back, nailing him right between the shoulder blades. It hits hard enough to make him stumble forwards.

“What the hell, Andrew!” Kevin turns around to scowl at him. 

Andrew shrugs. He flicks his eyes over to where the teacher is, and Kevin’s scowl fades slightly. Like the good child he is, Kevin goes to chase down their wayward ball. Andrew is left alone with new kid Neil, who is staring at him.

“Got a problem?” Andrew signs at him. He knows the kid won’t understand but he’s been dealing with blank faces for years now. And Neil, for all his wide-eyed looks and oozing innocence, has a composure that Andrew would love to see broken.

Neil shakes his head once. Andrew narrows his eyes, but the guy is already turned away to where Kevin is apologizing to some poor girl who tripped over the stray volleyball. Andrew spares him another look. Neil pretends not to notice.

Interesting. Interesting, indeed.

 

 

//

 

 

Neil Josten is terrible at texting.

His phone is nothing special, a standard smartphone, emphasizing affordability and durability rather than design or quality. Andrew is familiar with phones and most technologies out of necessity and too much free time on his hands. This kid, though, he barely knows what an emoji is, and seems to type like a retired dad.

Not that Andrew is texting him often.

He tried poking at Josten a little bit after trading numbers. The lack of response indicated that the loser still kept his phone tucked away in that ratty bag of his. He did get a  _ What do you want?  _ at one point, but Andrew has already lost interest. He’s not convinced Neil is as much of a nobody as he says he is, but whatever. There are other ways to push buttons that doesn’t involve draining his phone battery.

A pen taps his open notebook where he’s absently doodling. Renee smiles when he looks up. They’re in psych, sitting in the very back corner of the classroom, because the teacher didn’t want their classmates to be distracted by their signing. As if those losers aren’t all texting under the table. The teacher let them converse in the back of the room because he didn’t want to be insensitive to Andrew’s muteness, but he also assumed that Renee was helping to explain and translate things to Andrew, which is plenty insensitive because Andrew’s pretty sure he has a better grade than Renee. It’s not his fault that he’s already memorized the textbook.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him.

“Homicide,” he answers.

Renee’s smile doesn’t waver. “Have you started the homework for this week?”

“Finished it already.”

“Could you check mine over later?”

He shrugs. He casts a lazy glance across the room where the teacher is going over a diagram of the human brain. “Stop beating around the bush,” he tells her.

Renee hums. She pretends to copy down some notes just to annoy him. When she finally turns back to him, she lifts her hands and goes, “What do you think about the new recruits?”

Andrew gives her a disappointed look. “You’re going to talk exy to me? When I have no choice but to sit here and take it?”

“When else would I be able to do it?”

“Annoying.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Passable. Kevin’s dreams might actually come true this year.”

“You think we can beat the Ravens?”

“If we don’t break into a civil war first.”

“How so?”

Andrew debates making the effort to explain the terrible personalities of the new recruits to her. She’s the one that decided to miss tryouts for a bake sale at the church. But there’s still an hour left to go in this class. He summarizes as concisely as he can.

“Jack’s an asshole and Sheena’s a jerk,” he tells her, hands moving lazily through the vulgar signs. Renee’s been pretty diligent in sign language classes but he still signs a little slower just in case. “Robin’s decent but too scared of her own shadow, and Neil is. You’ve met him.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “But what do you think of Neil?”

He takes a second to consider. “I don’t trust him. He’s like a rabbit that’s ready to bolt at all times.”

“You don’t think he’s Fox material?”

“I think he’s pretending to be a fox.”

“Dan and Matt wants to adopt him.”

Andrew snorts. “Of course they do. Wymack let him on the team full of social rejects with a violent streak. They think he’s one of us now.”

Renee tilts her head. “You don’t think so?”

“I think he’s full of shit.”

“You really don’t like him.”

“I don’t know him enough to like or dislike him,” Andrew corrects. 

“Do you want to?”

Andrew squints at her. “Are you trying to preach at me, Walker?”

Renee blinks at him. She tries to copy the sign for ‘preach’ uncertainly. Andrew waves her off. She hesitates for a moment, and then goes, “I think he’s like us.”

She meets his eyes squarely. Andrew knows she doesn’t just mean that she thinks Neil Josten fits into Palmetto High exy team’s rumoured criteria of fucked up teenagers that the other sports teams didn’t want. She meant  _ like us _ , like Renee-Walker-born-Natalie-Shields, like Andrew-Minyard-born-Andrew-Doe. Like Kevin fucking Day, the way he sometimes still cradles his left hand close to his chest. Like the way shattered shards of glass are still reflected in Aaron’s eyes on bad days. She meant the way Neil’s scars spoke volumes, the way Neil tries so hard to keep his head down even as his eyes track the number of exits in any given room.

She meant  _ like us, _ like the way there are monsters hiding under their bones. His, too. 

“We’ll see,” is all he signs in response.

Andrew changes the subject to the class they’re supposed to be paying attention to, and Renee gracefully accepts the divergence without comment. That’s what he liked about her. She was as stubborn as he was but she knew when to push and when to back up. He trusts her to have his back, on the rare occasions that he let her have it. Because they’re similar in all the worst ways.

He just doesn’t know if Neil is the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know kevin is more than just exy but you know i can't resist any opportunity to roast him for living and breathing exy


	6. NEIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil vs. palmetto high foxes (part ii)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have anything against pineapples on pizza, close this tab right now
> 
> warnings for ableist language, mentioned past acts of violence, gratuitous debate of pizza toppings

 

He’s shoving his textbooks into his locker when he feels someone step up behind him. Neil grips the strap of his bag as he turns around cautiously.

“Heya, Neil.”

He relaxes just the tiniest bit. “Hi, Matt. Hi, Dan.”

“How were your classes today?”

Neil shrugs. He waits for them to get to the point.

“So, uh, Neil.” Matt leans forwards to pat his shoulder. When Neil shifts back against the lockers, Matt pulls back smoothly and rocks back on his heels. “We were just wondering if you have any plans after school?”

“Why?”

“We’re going for food,” Dan says. “The team, that is. Sort of like an official ‘welcome to the team’ icebreaker event. It’ll probably be pizza because Coach is still fighting the school for a better portion of the athletics fund, but there’s a pretty decent place just a ten minute drive away.”

“Uh.”

“Don’t worry,” Matt says, “we won’t judge you if you happen to like Hawaiian pizza. Kevin would put kale on his pizza if we let him.”

“He did once. Also tried to argue for celery until Aaron reminded him there was no extra nutritional value.”

Neil blinks at they both shudder at the memory. Matt turns back to him too soon to come up with a proper excuse to decline.

“You’ll come with, right? We can give you a ride, since Allison’s got the others and Coach’s got the monsters.”

“The monsters?”

“Kevin and the Twinyards.”

“... The Twinyards?”

Matt nods seriously. “I gave the twins a ride once and Andrew judged my car so hard that I had to take it into the shop the next day.”

“That’s just because its maintenance was due,” Dan says. “Don’t blame others for your own laziness.”

“Aw, come on, Dan. Don’t expose me like this.”

“I need to—” Neil shuffles awkwardly. “My uncle.”

“Do you need to call him? We can wait.”

He shakes his head. He makes up his mind. “I’ll just text him.”

Dan smiles at Neil. “Well, then, we better get going if we want a say in pizza toppings.”

The goalie sub is waiting in the parking lot for them. Neil thinks her name is Robin. She’s shy, bangs obscuring half her face as she keeps her head down. Neil climbs into the back after her and lets Matt and Dan fill the awkward silence as they drive down to the pizza place.

It’s a cozy place, tucked between a bakery and a clothing boutique. There are wooden tables and metal chairs placed throughout the shop, but the rest of the team is already squished up against the booths lining the walls. The only other customers are a middle age couple sitting by the windows, a college kid on his cell phone, and a few people waiting to pick up their pizzas.

“Dan! Thank god you’re finally here.” Allison waves frantically. “Please stop Kevin. He’s petitioning for terrible topping combinations again.”

“They’re not terrible, they’re  _ healthy _ —”

“They’re an  _ attack  _ on our taste buds—”

Neil makes eye contact with Robin. They exchanged a look of mild horror, like,  _ this  _ is the kind of team they’re getting into? But then Matt is dragging them along to where a table was pushed up against the booth and plopping them into the extra chairs pulled up along the side. Neil’s pretty sure they’re blocking the path to the emergency exit and violating a bunch of health codes and protocols, but the cashier doesn’t even look up from where they are ignoring a customer attempting to use an expired coupon.

They order three large pizzas and a load of cheesy fries and an entire plate of brownies, which appears to be for Andrew and Andrew only. Kevin opens his mouth to lecture, but closes it after Andrew shoots him a look. Half the team seems to have erupted over a heated debate about some Netflix show. The other freshmen are squished in the corner of the booth and looking sullen. Neil wonders if they only came for the promise of free food.

He’s dragged into conversation by Matt, who asks him about his favourite kind of pizza topping.

“I don’t really have a preference,” Neil says honestly.

“Oh, come on, everyone has a pizza they’d ride or die for.”

Neil shrugs. “Once you eat pizza for a week straight, they are start tasting the same.”

“You had pizza for a week straight?” Dan is giving him a slightly horrified and slightly pitying look.

“It’s fast and cheap,” Neil says. The easiest and safest meal for a homeless kid on the run.

“Okay,” Matt says, waving his hands as if shooing away the sudden awkwardness in the air. “What’s your favourite food, then? You said you travelled a lot, so you must have tried a lot of different foods, right?”

Neil shrugs again. “I don’t really have one.”

“Hun, that is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” Allison shoves a soda in his face. “Our entire team is made up of walking tragic backstories but you’re really bringing down the mood here.”

“I’m sorry?”

Seeing how uncomfortable Neil is with the attention, Matt turns to Robin to quiz her on her pizza preferences instead. Neil fidgets with the straw. He’s not sure what he’s doing here. Joining the team was an impulse, a desperate attempt to be a real person who liked doing real things. He was never allowed to have preferences before. He was lucky to get by with anything.  _ Don’t stand out. Keep your head down. You’re fine. _

The Foxes aren’t what he expected at all. Neil’s not sure he’s made to socialize after all. But Stuart looked so pleased when Neil told him about the exy team. He said that he was proud of Neil. Like he was his real parent or something. Neil tried not to think too much about it.

Something buzzes at his hip. He freezes for a moment before he remembers that he put his phone in his pocket after texting Stuart. He pulls it out.

**[andrew]:** _ having no taste buds makes a very unconvincing real person_

Neil frowns. He looks up and catches Andrew’s eye from down the table. The other boy tilts his head, bored expression in place like always. 

**[me]:** _ What are u talking about _

**[andrew]:** _ you’re freaking everyone out with your sketchiness _

**[me]:** _ Not everyone needs a favorite food _

**[andrew]:** _ i don’t trust you _

**[me]:** _ Never asked you to _

**[andrew]:** _ you don’t add up _

**[me]:** _ I’m not a math problem. _

**[andrew]:** _ i’ll still solve you _

At that, Neil looks up again. Most of the team is talking about some political scandal while Kevin and Seth are bickering loudly over everyone. Andrew is scraping the peppers on his pizza and flicking them onto Aaron’s plate, much to his brother’s disgust. Neil sips at his soda and thinks. Then he unlocks his phone again.

**[me]:** _ Why are u so convinced I’m a bad guy? _

**[andrew]:** _ i’m not convinced. just careful. bc kevin isn’t _

**[me]:** _ What does Kevin have to do with me _

**[andrew]:** _ you tell me _

**[andrew]:** _i don’t think your arrival and k’s sudden interest is coincidental_

**[me]:** _ I didn’t ask for Kevin’s interest. _

**[andrew]:** _ no one does. and yet _

**[me]:** _ Why do u care? You hate exy _

**[andrew]:** _ i don’t care enough abt exy to hate it _

**[me]:** _ But you’re so good at it. How can u not care about it? _

There’s a pause before Andrew’s reply. Neil glances towards him, but Andrew isn’t looking at him. He’s stabbing a fork into a piece of brownie while holding his phone in his other hand.

**[andrew]:** _ you don't have to care about something to be good at it _

Neil wants to answer something snarky, but before he can, Matt is peering over curiously. “Who are you texting?” he asks.

“Um.”

“Oh, you’re talking to Andrew.” Matt pauses, and then does a double take. It seems the entire table does the same. “Wait, you’re talking to Andrew?”

“Yeah,” Neil says. “So?”

Matt exchanges a glance with Dan. Allison is staring between Andrew and Neil. Aaron and Seth scowl at Neil and Andrew, respectively. Wymack is still discussing something with Kevin on the other end of the table while Renee looks on serenely. The other freshmen are glancing back and forth around the table.

“Nothing,” Matt says eventually. “That’s cool. That’s great!”

“He doesn’t usually talk to people,” Aaron says.

“Don’t you mean he doesn’t talk at all?” Jack sneers from next to Seth. “The freak is too good to speak to us.”

“Hey,” Dan says in warning.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aaron snaps.

“You shouldn’t speak like that about your teammates,” Renee says.

“I’m just saying—”

“Maybe,” Neil interrupts, “he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Thought about that?”

Jack opens his mouth again but Seth shoves a handful of fries into it. The rest of the team goes back to their conversations. Aaron goes back to glaring at Neil. Andrew, seemingly unaffected by the whole spectacle, is helping himself to another generous serving of brownie.

Neil tucks his phone away and pretends he isn’t hyperaware of its weight in his pocket.

 

 

//

 

 

“I can take the bus,” Neil says, but he just receives headshakes from everyone else.

“Your place is in my direction,” Allison tells him. “Just take the free ride, babe.”

“My name is Neil.”

He lets himself be pushed into the baby blue convertible and watches as the other freshmen split up between Matt and Coach’s car. The twins are waiting for their guardian along with Kevin. Neil puts on the seatbelt and fidgets with the strap of his bag.

They’ve barely pulled out of the parking lot when Allison speaks up. “Listen, Neil,” she says. “You’re new here and I like you, so I’m just giving you a heads up. You should watch out when you interact with Andrew and his crew.”

“Aren’t they your teammates?”

“Yes, and I’m grateful they’re on my team. But off the court? They can be a little... difficult.”

Seth snorts in the passenger seat. “That’s putting it nicely.”

“We call them the Monsters for a reason.”

“What’s the reason?”

Allison shrugs. “Just that. We’re all a little bit messed up, but they’re like. Dangerous messed up. You should know Kevin’s backstory by now, if you don’t live under a rock. Raised as a young exy prodigy only to fall from grace after a terrible accident. Depending on who you ask, it wasn’t even an accident.”

“His adopted brother,” Neil recalls.

“Nasty piece of work, that one. Anyway, don’t be fooled by Kevin’s anal personality, he can be absolutely ruthless if he wants to be. He’s made girls cry when they tried to confess to him just because he was going to be late for practice.”

“Insensitive shithead,” Seth says.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Allison shoots back. “Anyway, Aaron pretends he’s a harmless nerd but we were all there last year when he broke that guy’s nose for talking shit about his brother.”

Neil blinks. He has a hard time imagining Aaron punching anyone. Andrew? More likely. Guess both brothers have a protective streak in them.

“Not that I blame him,” Allison continues, “considering what happened to Andrew. But yeah. Aaron won’t hesitate to cut a bitch, and Andrew? That guy is on a whole other level.”

“He’s fucking psycho, is what he is,” Seth mutters.

“He’s dangerous, Neil, so be careful with him.”

Neil frowns. He admits that there’s something about the weight of Andrew’s stare that makes the hair on the back of his neck rise, but he’s never felt fear in Andrew’s presence. And Neil is very well-trained in following his instincts about potential danger around him. 

“Why do you think he’s dangerous?”

“He put some kid in the hospital in his first month here,” Allison says. “Just because they were looking at Aaron wrong. It’s not that he goes around picking fights, but he sure knows how to end them.”

“It sounds to me,” Neil says, “that they’re just protecting their own.”

Allison and Seth look at each other, and then look back at him through the rearview mirror. Seth barks out a laugh while Allison shakes her head.

“Maybe you’re a fucking monster, too,” Seth says.

Neil turns to stare out the window. He traces a scar on his wrist. He thinks maybe they’re right. He stays quiet the rest of the drive.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allison: calls neil endearments and pet names in increasing variety  
> neil, blinking: my name is neil
> 
> the tentative summary for this chapter was "neil vs. pizza toppings"
> 
> consider the lawlessness of neil's liberal use of both "you" and "u" in his texting. andrew's about to throw his phone at his face


	7. ANDREW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew vs. confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for ableist language, terrible high school boys

 

Nicky is attempting to sing along to the radio. Andrew is attempting to convince himself that reaching over to throttle his cousin would be a majorly bad idea, seeing as said cousin is currently driving and Andrew and Aaron are both in the car with him.

It’s way too early for this.

He reaches over and stabs the button to turn the radio off. Silence floods the car. Nicky pouts at him but wisely chooses to focus on the road. Aaron exhales in relief from the back.

“I have a double shift tonight at Eden’s,” Nicky says, pulling into the high school parking lot. “I know you two have exy practice this afternoon, so I packed some extra snacks in your bags today! There should be enough leftovers from last night for dinner, don’t wait up for me. But if anything happens—”

“We both have your number on speed dial,” Aaron interrupts. He already has his seatbelt unbuckled. “Go to work, Nicky. Before you’re late again.”

“Great divas only ever arrive fashionably late!”

Andrew rolls his eyes. He follows his brother out of the car, throwing a wave over his shoulder. Loud honking follows the sound of Nicky peeling away from the curb. It really is a miracle that they’re all still alive with Nicky as their chauffeur.

“Andrew,” Aaron says, pausing by the front steps. He’s holding a stack of books in his arms and he’s squinting through his glasses. He looks like a nerd. Which he is. Aaron lifts his left foot and wiggles it. “My shoelaces are untied.”

“A tragedy,” Andrew replies.

Aaron scowls. “Asshole, just hold my books for a second.”

Andrew rolls his eyes but he holds out his hands for the books. He waits until Aaron kneels down, and then he’s stalking up the stairs, murderous frown firmly in place so people know to avoid his path. He pretends not to hear Aaron yelling at him to wait up.

His brother catches up to him just as he reaches the hall where their lockers are located. There’s a crowd blocking the way. Specifically, a crowd blocking their lockers. Andrew steps closer to peer between the heads.

It’s Allison. She’s standing there with her arms crossed and head held high as she stares down four boys Andrew half-recognizes from the football team. They’re laughing, nudging each other with the self-assured cockiness that is sewn into their letter jackets. Andrew isn’t impressed. Allison isn’t either, by the way she’s glaring at them.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” one of the boys say, “don’t be like that. We’re just having a little fun.”

Andrew does not particularly care for Allison. She’s loud and opinionated and she has never liked Andrew. The feeling is mutual. Just because they’re on the same team doesn’t mean they share some strong sense of loyalty. Andrew doesn’t care about Allison’s feelings. But something about the way the guy says those words, the way his friends laugh along, the way the crowd is just watching on—something about that sends waves of discomfort down his spine. 

Andrew isn’t a hero or a martyr. But he has no patience for bullies who think they can take and take and take.

“Yeah, well, I’m not laughing,” Allison is saying. 

“Don’t be pissy,” another one says. “You should be honoured to be invited, considering you’re one of them.”

Allison narrows her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“For an exy freak, you’re pretty sexy,” the first one explains, and his friends laugh as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Just come and sit pretty for us at homecoming. You’re lucky, you know, to even be invited.”

“By you?” Allison scoffs. “At least our team made it to semifinals last year. Homecoming game? You guys are playing Riverside. They’re an  _ arts school. _ ”

The boys are starting to frown. The crowd is giggling, waiting for a fight to break out. Allison isn’t one to hold back punches, but even she would have trouble downing three aggressive athletes. 

“You think you’re so much better than us?”

“Better than you douchebags? Of course.”

“You little—”

Bored of it all, Andrew grabs one of the heavy textbooks out of Aaron’s arms. He ignores Aaron’s protests and slams it against a locker door. The resounding bang has everyone jumping and turning his way. 

Andrew tilts his head. “ _ Get out of my way _ ,” he tells them.

“Look, it’s the midget freak,” one of the footballers say. “Can he read lips? Go—away—loser.”

Allison looks ready to dig her nails into his eyes. The crowd is quiet now, nervous after Andrew’s loud entrance. 

“He said get out of the way,” Aaron says.

“Or he’ll what? Wave his hands at us until we move?”

“He’s mute, not stupid,” Allison snaps. “Your problem is with me so leave him out of this.”

“What, is he your boyfriend now? Gordon had enough of you so you’re going after the easy ones now?”

Even Aaron takes a step forward at that. Andrew slams the textbook again. He doesn’t break eye contact as he steps forwards and lifts the book deliberately.

“Fuck, man, chill,” the footballer mutters, backing away. “You really are fucking crazy.”

“Reynolds isn’t fucking worth it,” the other guy says. They throw Andrew one last glare before walking away. 

Allison exhales loudly, leaning back against the lockers. Andrew dumps the textbook back in Aaron’s loving arms. The crowd disperses now that the drama is over and the fight isn’t going to happen. High school is hell.

“Sorry about that,” Allison says. “They cornered me this morning. Jerkfaces thought they could ask me out to homecoming by insulting my sport and my team? God, I should have punched them.”

“ _ Whatever, _ ” Andrew tells her.

“We don’t care,” Aaron says. “You’re blocking our lockers.”

She moves out of the way but doesn’t leave. She’s wearing the expression that she wears when she’s coming up with yet another terrible bet to drag the rest of the group into. Andrew wants no part in it.

“You know, I’ve had enough of those assholes,” Allison says. “You guys agree, right? It’s time we stop letting them walk around like they own the place, just because the principal likes football enough to give them proper funding?”

“Their team is double our numbers,” Aaron reminds her. “And also double our size, physically.”

“There’s more than one way to fight a war,” Allison says, smiling. It’s not a nice smile. “I’ve got a plan. I’ll tell the rest of the team at lunch, too. You guys are in, okay? It’s going to be good.”

Andrew glares at her, but she doesn’t even flinch. Allison waves cheerily before dashing off down the hall. Aaron is still shuffling his books around in his locker.

He can already feel a headache forming.

 

 

//

 

 

Practice isn’t going well.

It never really is, what with Dan yelling herself hoarse trying to get the team to work together, Wymack sending everyone on laps until their legs give out, Kevin antagonizing everyone just by opening his mouth, Seth always a breath away from throwing down his racquet to sock somebody in the gut. Andrew twirls his own racquet as he watches Matt attempt to make peace between one of the little freshmen and Allison. A futile attempt, really.

The strikers are running this way again. Andrew stands in the goal and stares them down. The ball whips right past him. The goal lights up. Kevin tears his helmet off to start screaming at him again. Seth is walking away. Josten is standing there, racquet clenched in both hands, just staring. Andrew stares back. He can’t see well enough at this distance to meet the kid’s eyes clearly, but Andrew can read the frustration in his posture just fine.

He tends to inspire that sentiment in people. It’s his brand.

“Goddammit, Minyard,” Wymack sighs when they gather at the bench for a water break. “I don’t have you on the team to just stand around in the goal doing nothing.”

“ _ Too bad, _ ” Andrew signs at him. Wymack understands enough from context and heaves another sigh.

“Is every practice going to be like this?” he hears Josten ask Matt. 

“Unfortunately.”

“No offense, but how the hell did you guys make it to semifinals last year?”

Matt laughs. “A miracle, honestly. Kevin transferring halfway through the year certainly helped. But then there was that incident with—” He lowers his voice, but not enough. “—the Minyards, and then Riko, and we just sort of fell apart again. But we’ve got good players, you know? And this year we have more, so we can do it again.”

Josten wants to ask about the incidents, Andrew can tell. But he doesn’t, and instead, he goes, “This is barely a team. You guys can’t even work together in practice, how can you guys work together in a game?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Kevin throws his hands up. He forgets he’s holding a water bottle and sloshes water all over Aaron, who scrambles away, disgusted. “If we don’t work together, there’s no way we can even face the Ravens.”

“You’re not any better,” Josten says, and Andrew watches in amusement as Kevin’s face turns red. “You just stand there yelling at anyone that can’t keep up with you.”

“I do not—”

“He’s right,” Seth cuts in. “Since you got here last year, all you’ve been doing is running around acting like a dictator. Guess what, dipshit, no one cares.”

Kevin is absolutely seething now. “Gordon, you—”

“Just because you went to some creepy private school that worships exy like a crazy cult doesn’t make you better than anybody else.”

“Evermore is not—”

Andrew tunes out then, because he’s had enough of Kevin defending that hellhole. He’d been recruited once, offered a full ride scholarship. A shiny uniform, a promise of a recommendation for a good university. But he’s looked into Riko Moriyama’s eyes, and the ruthlessness that looked back was something he did not want to come in contact with ever again. Evermore might be a prestigious academy, but Andrew was never one for privilege and glory.

No, he was perfectly fine being nothing.

He tunes back in to hear Wymack saying to Aaron, “Ask your brother what it would take to get him to actually play for a bit. I’ve had enough of wasted practices.”

“Ask him yourself.”

“Andrew,” Kevin says, standing in front of him. “Come on. I’ve been training my left hand all summer and I need an actual challenge if we’re actually going to get somewhere.”

“ _ That’s an insult to Renee _ ,” Andrew tells him. He makes sure to painstakingly fingerspell ‘insult’ so Kevin is forced to squint at his hands until he understands. 

“Stop being difficult.”

Andrew flashes him a fake smile before going back to staring blankly across the court. The others are still bickering behind him. Kevin doesn’t move. He’s saying something again, something about  _ talent  _ and  _ wasted _ and really, he should know by now. Nothing about exy will ever motivate Andrew.

“We have a game in two weeks,” Wymack says. “Andrew. I’ll buy you ice cream. Just don’t stand there in the goal like a statue.”

“Don’t buy him ice cream,” Kevin argues. “He needs to keep a healthy diet!”

“What are you, his mother?” Aaron retorts.

“What else does he want, then? I’ve already blown most of my budget on bribing him.”

They argue about him over his head. This happens too often for Andrew to work up the energy to be pissed about it. People think that just because he can’t speak up for himself, they can speak for him. Most of the time Andrew doesn’t want to bother dealing with people, so having Aaron speak for him is fine. But his brother isn’t the best at knowing what Andrew wants. Sometimes Andrew wonders if Aaron even knows him at all.

The consequences of spending the first eight years of your life separated from your biological twin.

“This is ridiculous,” Wymack says. “We’re getting nowhere.”

“Make your brother play,” Kevin says to Aaron.

“I can’t make him do anything and you know it.”

Through the gap between Kevin and Wymack’s bodies, Andrew catches sight of Josten. He makes eye contact. The frustration is still evident in his stance, but something like determination bleeds into his face. Andrew has a moment of apprehension before his eyes lock onto Josten deliberately lifting his hands where Andrew can see them.

“ _ What do you want? _ ” Neil Josten asks him, forming the signs with a fluidity that causes Andrew to go still.

He’s not the only one that was watching. 

“Neil? What was that?”

“Did he just sign?”

“Wait, you know sign language?”

Neil ignores them all. He takes a step forwards, planting himself squarely in Andrew’s view. “ _ What do you want in exchange for you to play seriously during practice? _ ”

“ _ I don’t like surprises, _ ” Andrew tells him.

“ _ Okay _ ,” Neil replies easily. “ _ What can I give you in exchange? _ ”

Andrew stares at him. He keeps his expression bored and blank, but inside he is starting to quiver with rage. Who was this kid, to come out of nowhere, plant himself in front of Andrew and speak to him in his language so boldly? Who was he to ask him directly about what he wants instead of waiting for someone else to decide for him? Who was he to meet Andrew’s gaze head on and hold it like a challenge, like an open door, like something worthwhile is waiting on the other side?

Andrew straightens. “ _ What are you willing to give? _ ”

Neil hesitates. But his hands are steady when he answers, “ _ Name your price. _ ”

A rabbit with a stubborn streak. Interesting. 

“ _ Meet me after school tomorrow, _ ” Andrew tells him. “ _ You owe me the time I put in today. _ ”

Through their teammates’ chatter, past the look Aaron is sending them, ignoring Kevin’s demands to know what they’re saying, Neil nods.

“ _ Deal. _ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wymack isn't paid enough for andrew. aaron isn't either,


	8. NEIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil vs. prime bonding experiences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allison said, let the shenanigans begin!!!!!!!

 

It’s seven sixteen and Neil is trying not to nod off in the seniors’ wing. The rest of the team is gathered around in various stages of bleary-eyed awakeness.

 “Remind me why we decided to get up at the asscrack of dawn again?” Matt yawns.

Allison stands with her hands on her hips. She’s the only one that looks all the way awake. “To defend my honour,” she says, smiling. There’s a dangerous glint in her eyes.

The twins are the last to arrive. Aaron is dragging along two plastic bags while Andrew strolls after him like a zombie.

“You’re late,” Allison says. She holds a hand out for the bags. “You got the goods?”

Aaron huffs at her. “These supplies are supposed to be for the kids at Nicky’s daycare.”

“Those brats can live without glitter and Sharpie for a day. This is for an important cause.”

“Petty revenge?”

“Yes. I know I’m not the only one who has had enough of those football jerks. Besides, isn’t Dan always trying to get us to do team bonding activities?”

Dan rubs her eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of movie nights.”

Allison claps her hands. “Okay, team. I’ve got those losers’ locker numbers. I’m not asking for masterpieces, my only criteria is that you include the words ‘too pretty for exy’ somewhere and use as much glitter as possible. We’ve got about forty-five minutes before people start showing up. Grab some supplies, split up—let’s destroy some fragile masculinities today, team!”

A little more awake now, the team huddles long enough to grab bottles of glitter and packs of markers before dispersing along the hallway. The girls are already painting a locker with glue when Neil passes them. The twins and Kevin are examining the glitter with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Neil’s the only freshman that showed up, so he follows Matt and Seth further down the hall.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Matt says, handing out their revenge materials, “but what was the last straw for her? We’ve been waging a cold war with the footballers for ages—this is a direct attack.”

Seth snorts. “Idiots tried to ask her to homecoming.”

“Aren’t you and Allison on again?”

“Yeah. Apparently they didn’t take the ‘no’ very nicely. Minyard had to step in.”

“Andrew did?”

“Probably because they were in the way.”

Matt nods because that makes more sense. He looks up from the surprisingly aesthetic flower he’s drawing to where Neil is just standing there awkwardly holding a bottle of bright purple glitter.

“Hey, don’t be shy,” says Matt. “This is a pretty tame prank in comparison to all the other stuff our team has pulled. Just think of it as arts and crafts.”

Neil is completely lost. “Arts and what?”

Matt blinks at him. He exchanges a look with Seth. His tone is cautious when he asks, “Have you never done arts and crafts before?”

“Uh, no. I was homeschooled?” Neil doesn’t mention that his lessons were more focused on finesse in cutting up small animals and disturbingly detailed diagrams of human anatomy. Lola might have argued there was art and craft in that, but Neil just finds it nauseating and tedious.

“Okay, well,” Matt says. He taps the locker. “Here. I’ll help you get the glue on here, and you can just throw glitter at it. Anywhere you want. The more the better.”

When Neil hesitates, Seth grabs the glitter and twists it open. He shoves it back into Neil’s hands. “It’s not rocket science, Josten. Just do it.”

“But,” Neil says, “won’t we get caught?” They’re literally writing ‘exy’ onto the lockers.

“Nah,” Matt says. “The teachers won’t intervene for minor pranks like this. Everyone knows the sports teams have a friendly little rivalry going on. And if the footballers actually go to the admin for this, they know they’ll get worse.”

Neil doesn’t know the politics of high school sports teams. It sounds a little messy. Seth tells him to hurry up before the glue dries. Matt gives him an encouraging smile. Neil glances down at the glitter in his hands. He looks at the locker door. Then, against his better judgement, he hefts the bottle up, and flings it.

 

 

//

 

 

Andrew is waiting by his locker when Neil drags himself over there after the final bell. He stalled as much as he could by asking questions about the homework, but he made a deal. And anyway, he isn’t afraid of Andrew. The guy is smaller than him and constantly looks like he’d rather beam himself up into space than be physically present. Whatever the rest of the team is so worried about, Neil can handle it.

He’s handled worse things with broken ribs and bullet wounds.

“Got lost?” Andrew signs at him. 

Neil shrugs and turns away to shove his books into the locker. He pretends not to feel the weight of Andrew’s stare.

He follows Andrew outside quietly. There are a few stares from the lingering crowds of students, but Neil can’t figure out if it’s just the usual gawking at his scars or if it’s wariness for Andrew. They’re cutting through the parking lot when he finally reaches out to tap Andrew’s shoulder.

He doesn’t expect the violent flinch Andrew gives at his touch. Neil freezes at the venom of Andrew’s glare. 

“Don’t touch me,” Andrew warns him.

Neil nods. “Sorry. Where are we going?” he asks.

“Worried I’ll kidnap you?”

“No,” Neil says honestly. He doesn’t think Andrew would do anything when he announced their plans in front of the entire team yesterday. And Neil is fairly confident he can run faster than Andrew.

“I’m hungry,” Andrew announces. He turns away and heads purposefully down the sidewalk, clearly done with the conversation and expecting Neil to follow. For someone so short, he walks really fast. 

They turn down some empty roads. This district is nice; not super well off but not terribly distraught either. Neil doesn’t know if he feels uncomfortable because of the normalcy of the nice lawns and worn cars or the quietness of it all. The perfect place for people to settle down. The kind of place their kids can grow up safe and impatient to leave. Neil has never been able to linger in such stable towns. It makes him wonder about a life he could never have.

Andrew suddenly veers to the left. He steps off the sidewalk and crosses somebody’s lawn in broad daylight. Neil freezes at the edge of the grass, gaping. Andrew is nearly level with the side of the house by the time Neil hisses his name.

“Andrew,” he whisper-yells. “What—?”

Andrew turns back with the most unimpressed face ever. Seeing as that seems to be his default expression, Neil safely assumes that he’s really testing Andrew’s patience right now. 

“Paranoia is unattractive,” Andrew tells him, and Neil scowls. 

When Andrew turns to continue cutting through somebody’s side door, Neil only casts one last quick glance about to make sure no one is around. He follows.

They come across an intersection, and on the other side of the road Neil can see some sort of strip mall with small shops spread down the road. If he recalls correctly, it’s the same general area where they went for pizza last time. Andrew walks past the stores quickly while Neil cranes his head to glance at the storefronts. He nearly walks into the other boy when Andrew suddenly comes to a stop.

Neil looks up. Then he looks at Andrew. “Pancakes. Really?”

Andrew ignores him and pushes the door open. He makes a beeline for a booth in the corner. The waitress comes over and asks him if he wants the usual. When it’s his turn, Neil points at the cheapest thing with the least amount of sugar and whipped cream.

He sits there fiddling with the strap of his bag and pretending not to watch Andrew stare out the window for a full five minutes before he cracks.

He taps on the table and waits until Andrew glances over. “Why are we here?” he asks in sign.

“You owe me,” Andrew reminds him.

“Yes. But why are we  _ here _ ?”

“You have something against pancakes?”

Neil frowns. “No. I didn’t take you for someone with a sweet tooth, though.”

Andrew goes, “Surprise!” in the most sarcastic manner possible.

Frustrated, Neil crosses his arms and leans back against the plastic seat. Andrew studies him for a bit. Then he lifts his hands, something intense in his gaze.

“Let’s play a game,” Andrew proposes. “Truth for a truth.”

Neil narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you annoy me. You don’t make sense. The only mysteries I like are written in black and white on paperback. I said I would figure you out.”

“You don’t have to figure me out.”

“The truth game. Yes or no, Neil.”

Neil considers. He’s never been all too familiar with the concept of truth. He’s been raised to always lie and lie well, well enough to melt into anonymous crowds and pretend to be somebody else, anybody else than who he is. Truth is dangerous. Truth catches up to you and traps you. Truth kills you. 

But he’s not running anymore. 

Neil meets Andrew’s eyes. “Yes,” he signs.

Andrew nods. They both sit back to let the waitress serve their food. Neil watches in a mix of horror and fascination as Andrew immediately drowns his stack of pancakes in syrup. He picks at his own modest stack and waits.

Finally, Andrew shoves the syrup back in the basket. He glances up at Neil and signs with sharp, quick movements.

“Why are you so fluent in sign?”

When Neil hesitates, Andrew reminds him, “Truth.”

Neil pushes the blueberries around on his plate. He takes a deep breath to steel himself. Shakes off the feeling of fingers tugging at his hair. “My mother,” he begins, hands awkward but steady. Andrew doesn’t pause in cutting his syrup-pancake-soup into tiny, mushy pieces, but his eyes flick up to Neil’s face. “My mother lost part of her hearing suddenly,” Neil explains. “We learned together because she wanted a better way to communicate with me. It’s useful for staying quiet.”

“Staying quiet.”

Neil looks away. “My father... he doesn’t like unnecessary noise. He is not a nice man.”

Andrew nods. He doesn’t offer any sympathy or other commentary. But Neil doesn’t feel like Andrew is dismissing him, either. It’s strangely reassuring.

“I haven’t used sign in a while.” Neil’s not entirely sure why he continues, but Andrew blinks at him in acknowledgement. “My mother, she—after she died, there wasn’t—I haven’t had the chance.”

“Sucks for you.” Andrew tilts his head. “Your turn. Ask me.”

Neil stares at his pancakes, considering. There is the most obvious question, the reason they are signing at each other across the table, but Neil doesn’t know if Andrew would answer that right now. They agreed on telling the truth but it wasn’t like they owed each other anything. 

“Do you really think I’m dangerous?”

“I think you’re capable of a lot more damage than the little rabbit you’re pretending to be.”

“Why?”

Andrew bares his teeth. “Like recognizes like.” Before Neil can examine the sudden jolt in his gut at Andrew’s words, Andrew continues, “Your mother is dead. What about your father?”

Neil doesn’t flinch, but his hands fall into his lap. They curl into fists without him meaning to. Andrew picks up his fork and stabs a piece of pancake. He’s not looking at Neil but there’s an alertness in his eyes that says he is waiting. Listening.

Slowly, Neil signs, “My father is currently in prison. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Life sentence?”

“Yes.”

Andrew nods again. He twirls his fork at Neil, gesturing for him to go. 

“Why do you play exy,” Neil asks, “if you hate it so much?”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “I told you, I don’t care enough for it to hate it.”

“Why do you play exy if you don’t give a shit about it?”

Andrew’s expression doesn’t change, but Neil thinks he’s amused. Barely. “Kevin,” Andrew answers simply.

“You’re playing exy for Kevin?”

“We made a deal. I promised I’d help Kevin and the Foxes make it to the championships and beat Evermore.”

“And what do you get in return?”

“Tell me another truth and maybe I’ll answer that.”

Neil shoves a strawberry in his mouth. It’s still unsettling, giving up parts of himself that he’s had to hold close to his chest for so long. He’s not used to being known. And it isn’t like he’s ever strayed close enough to someone else to know them, either. But Andrew sits there in the booth with him, shovelling his forkfuls of his sugary abomination into his mouth, solid and unmoving. He doesn’t look particularly concerned with Neil’s silences, he doesn’t look especially invested in Neil’s secrets. He’s willing to give back as much as he takes. 

Neil thinks maybe he can get used to that.

They trade a few easier truths after that. Simple, low-stakes truths: favourite colour (“Let me guess, black?” “Haha, a real jokester, aren’t you.”), best school subject (“Of course you’d like math.” “What’s that supposed to mean?”), allergies (“Oranges.” “You live in California, though?” “I’m aware.”) , how many people have they punched in the face (“Not enough.” “They deserved it.”). The slightly queasy feeling in Neil’s stomach doesn’t really go away. It’s too ingrained in him, the need to lie. But he doesn’t. He sits there and watches Andrew devour his pancakes and tells the truth.

In the end, Neil pays for their pancakes and they go separate ways. Andrew doesn’t look back, but when Neil digs out his phone later that night, he finds one new message.

**[andrew]:** _ telling the truth isn’t so hard now, is it? _

Neil rolls his eyes and tosses his phone into the corner. Snarky little shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i made legit excuses to go to ihop for this chapter. my sister kept asking me if they've made it out of the pancakes yet because i was stuck on that conversation for so long.
> 
> the one fatal flaw of this au is that i decided not to give andrew a car, so goodbye long romantic late night drives, hello stealing aaron's bike in the middle of the night to throw rocks at neil's window,
> 
> pls feel free to throw anecdotes of dumb pranks teenage you have pulled. i was a goody-two-shoes so i collect these stories like a dragon and its hoard.


	9. ANDREW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew vs. his annoyance at one neil josten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings, i don't think, but mentions of andrew's ptsd symptoms/discussion of seeing a therapist comes up in conversation.

 

 

Aaron thumps his way into the living room and unceremoniously dumps his bag on the ground. Andrew flips a page in the book he’s reading and ignores him.

“Hey,” Aaron says because he refuses to read the room. “What’s with you and Josten?”

Andrew heaves a sigh. "What do you care," he signs back. He watches his brother grit his teeth, translating in his head.

"Since when did he sign?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"Stop being difficult, Andrew. You ditched me after school for him, too. What did you do?"

"Why do you assume I did something?"

"I know your track record better than anybody," Aaron says. "I'm just saying. I don't want collateral damage like last time."

Andrew's hands clench. He wants to point out that Aaron is wrong. Aaron knows about the fallouts and the hospital stay and the way Nicky still hovers sometimes and the rumours going around the school. Aaron knows about bruised knuckles and Andrew's silence. But he doesn't know the reasons why, not really.

He's never bothered to ask.

"As long as he stays out of my way, I don't care what he does," Andrew tells him. He pauses. "Why do you care?" he asks again.

Aaron pauses just a moment too long. "I don't," he says. "But I'm responsible for him passing bio and chem this year. If he fails, I won't get the credits and you know I need them."

Yes, yes, his brother actually has ambitions and a carefully planned out future at med school. It’s the universe’s cruelest joke to have the two of them be polar opposites while trapped in identical bodies. 

“Don’t worry,” Andrew signs at him. “I promised to behave this year, didn’t I?”

Aaron scoffs. He throws himself on the couch and digs out his textbook. Predictable. “Just don’t fuck him up too badly. He looks like he’s already had enough of that.”

A stab of annoyance shoots through Andrew. For all of Aaron’s booksmarts and nerd tendencies, he’s really quite callous with his words. It’s not Andrew’s job to figure that out for him, though. It’s certainly not like Andrew cares all that much about Neil’s feelings or pride. It’s just that he has to live with Aaron. Sometimes he wonders if it’s even worth it.

Bee says those thoughts are valid but ultimately unhealthy for him. Andrew tries not to think at all, if he can help it.

“Whatever,” Andrew tells him. He makes sure to accidentally-on-purpose toss his book on top of Aaron’s homework. He ignores his brother’s indignant sputtering as he stalks his way up to his room.

 

 

//

 

 

Andrew is skipping fourth period in his usual spot up on the roof of the arts building. No one ever thinks to check up here, and the corner of his favourite perch is in a blind spot from the neighbouring building. He can smoke up here without any busybodies trying to lecture him into next Monday.

He’s halfway through his second cigarette when the door behind him creaks open. Andrew casts a lazy glance over. It’s Josten. Of fucking course. He goes back to blowing smoke off the edge of the roof.

Because he’s an idiot that can’t take a hint, Josten walks right up to the edge and plops himself down barely two feet away from Andrew. He clears his throat. Andrew ignores him. “Hey,” Neil says out loud. He waits until Andrew reluctantly glances over before signing, “Smoking is bad for you.”

In reply, Andrew blows smoke in his face. Neil, the idiot, instead of flinching back, almost seems to lean forwards to breathe in. Andrew turns away, feeling weirdly irritated. 

“You’re an athlete,” Neil argues. “How can you keep up when you’re actively killing your lungs?”

Sighing internally, Andrew shifts the cigarette in his fingers so he can sign back. “Goalie,” he reminds Neil. “If I need to run, the team’s fucked up real bad.”

“Okay, but,” Neil starts. Then he frowns, arms lowering.

“You don’t have to sign,” Andrew tells him.

Neil cocks his head. He looks a little like a puppy. A pathetic, annoying puppy. “Yes, I do,” Neil replies. “Because you’re signing.”

“I can hear you just fine.”

“Yes, but. It’s not fair.”

“Well, aren’t you an upstanding citizen.”

Neil scowls. “I just thought you deserved some decent respect.” He pauses. “My mother used to smoke, too. I haven’t really signed since she died. This is all sort of nostalgic, for me.”

Andrew considers him for a moment. He takes another drag out of his cigarette. “You should talk to my therapist about that. She’d have a field day.”

“You have a therapist?”

“No shit, Sherlock. You think I talk with my hands for fun?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. It’s not like anyone else should have a say in how you choose to communicate.”

Andrew squints at him. “Annoying.”

“Sorry,” Neil responds, not looking sorry at all. “What do you need a therapist for?”

Goes straight for the throat, this one. Andrew takes one last drag, exhaling slowly. He puts out the cigarette against the roof. “The answer’s going to cost you.”

“Okay.”

God, this kid is annoying. Who the hell is that earnest? For someone who’s clearly hiding some sketchy past, Neil has incredibly bad self-preservation. Andrew glares at the science building for a solid minute. Then he turns to face Neil, keeping his eyes trained on the other boy’s face.

“I have PTSD,” Andrew tells him. “Depressive symptoms, disturbing flashbacks, dissociative episodes, all that jazz. They’ve plied me with pills to deal with those side effects but there’s no medication for selective mutism.”

“Selective mutism?”

“It means there’s nothing wrong with me physically. I just won’t talk.”

“Oh.”

“So they shipped me off to Bee. See if she can fix my shitty brain.”

“Does she help?”

Andrew stares at him. He really can’t tell if Neil is a natural instigator or just straight up stupid. The truth is, they’ve sat him down with multiple therapists since they figured he wasn’t just refusing to talk but that his fucked up mind won’t let him. Bee was the only one that stuck it with him, so Andrew kept going back. He still hasn’t made that much progress in the three or so years he’s been seeing her but she does make a mean hot chocolate.

“You’ve already filled your question quota today,” Andrew tells him. “You owe me two truths now.”

Neil screws up his face. He should look stupid like that, and he does, but the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw and the way his scars stand out against his skin—Andrew grits his teeth. He doesn’t look as stupid as he should. That’s really fucking annoying.

“Ask, then.”

Andrew tilts his head. “What do you have against therapists?”

“I don’t have anything against therapists.”

“Truth, Josten.”

“I don’t! I mean, people see them for a reason, right? That’s great for them. You. Whatever. I just don’t really see how they could help me.”

“You don’t think you need help.” He’s careful not to phrase it like a question.

Neil shrugs. “I’ve been fine so far.”

Andrew watches him for a moment. He briefly considers the amount of effort it’d take to argue with the kid about that statement. Deeming it too much, Andrew goes to gather up his cigarettes and lighter.

“I still owe you a truth, don’t I?”

Andrew stands, dusting off his jeans. “I’ll save it for next time.”

“What—”

“See ya at practice, weirdo.”

Bee’s going to go nuts with the amount of material he has to unload on her in the next session.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -this chapter signifies the start of neil's Mission to Stop Andrew From Smoking For the Sake of Exy  
> -neil: stop smoking  
> andrew: i will when you go see a therapist  
> neil: ...  
> andrew: checkmate  
> -question: wait, if andrew is underage, how does he get his cigarettes?   
> answer: he has an understanding with some college kids that live three blocks over  
> -q: are the chapters getting shorter??  
> a: mayhaps,,, but More Shenanigans (and possibly Actual Exy) is coming  
> -q: when will aaron get his head out of his ass  
> andrew: i would also like to know  
> nicky: don't be mean to your brother!  
> andrew: but he makes it so easy


	10. NEIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil vs. pre-homecoming vibes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings!
> 
> this update is almost exactly a month since the last, yikes. can u believe i managed to post an entire fic in between and sign up for yet another fandom event. i should have been submitting resumes but no, priorities,

 

 

"I'm gonna kill them," Allison announces. She's perched on the exercise bike, pedalling so hard that Neil is half-afraid she'll break the machine. The murderous look on her face doesn't help. 

"Homicide is frowned upon," Renee reminds her.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," says Kevin, "but I agree with Allison."

"The world is fucking ending," Seth mutters from the corner where he's subtly challenging Andrew to a weight-lifting competition.

Dan sighs. "While I don't agree with the aggressiveness, I feel the same way. The football team swooping in on the morning gym times right before we have our first game is awful."

"They don't even need the gym!" Allison says, indignant and red-faced. "Football is played on fake fucking grass, _outside._ What the hell do they need to use the gym for?"

Neil glances out the window of the weight room to the gymnasium below. The football team is running a series of drills with plastic cones and the taped lines on the wood floor. A few of them catch sight of him by the window and immediately make obscene gestures. Neil frowns. Allison catches them in the act and flips them off in return.

"They're taunting us," she says. "They know they're in the principal's pocket, the smug little bastards. I hate them. I hate them so much."

"I didn't know you cared so much about exy," Neil says to her.

She shakes her head. "It's not even about exy anymore. It's a matter of dignity."

"It's always about exy," Kevin says, but everyone ignores him. 

"What are you going to do, then?" Matt asks her. "Technically they did get the gym slots fair and square. At least Wymack secured afternoon priority for us."

" _Yeah, Allison,_ " Andrew signs. " _Ask your rich daddy to build another gym for us poor exy freaks._ "

"Andrew," Renee chides. 

Allison narrows her eyes at him. "You know what, I don't even want to know." She flips her long ponytail over her shoulder. "C'mon, guys. They're just trying to get under our skin because of what we did on Monday, and because we actually win games instead of just lose embarrassingly. We can't take this lying down."

"What do you propose?" Dan asks.

Allison turns from the window and looks thoughtfully around the room. Her gaze lingers on Kevin. Her mouth quirks up in a cheshire grin. "Hey, homecoming is coming up, right?"

"It's next week," Matt supplies.

"Great." Allison clasps her hands together. "Everyone, buy your tickets at lunch. If you don't have cash on you today, I'll spot you."

"We're crashing homecoming?"

Allison grins. "They want a homecoming queen to ogle at? Well, we'll give them one."

 

 

//

 

 

Neil shuffles his notes around. His messy scrawl is not making it easier to decode. Across from him, Aaron is flipping through his own meticulously colour-coded notes. He has a pack of highlighters, several backup pens, and a newly sharpened pencil all lined up carefully next to his water bottle. 

"Did you find it?" Aaron asks without looking up. He underlines something.

"Uh," Neil says. "No?"

Aaron sighs. He puts down his pen and gives him an unimpressed look. For a moment there, he looks like the spitting image of Andrew.

Matt doesn't believe Neil when he says that it's easy to tell the twins apart, and not just because of their fashion sense or the fact that Andrew speaks with his hands and Aaron refuses to speak with his hands. Their expressions are completely different. Neil has only known them for barely a few weeks but he knows the difference in the way Andrew wears blankness like a shield, the way Aaron’s perpetual frown is less sharp and more of a habit in trying to stay out of reach. 

“You’re sure you copied the notes down for it?”

“Yeah. It might be in my other notebook?”

Aaron sighs again. He pulls one of his notebooks from under the stack and tosses it across the table. “Borrow mine for now. At least finish that worksheet before our time is up, okay? Ask me questions. But only after you looked through the notes.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

They go back to staring down at their respective notes. Neil scribbles down an answer. He’s seventy percent sure it’s right. That’s a better percentage than the last question he sort of answered. Whatever. He just needs to pass this course, he’s not aiming for valedictorian.

When he’s finished, he pushes the worksheet over to Aaron. He fiddles with his pens while he waits. He’s been trying to train his fingers to flip them backwards in a different way than he usually does it. Highly entertaining when he zones out during class.

Aaron marks something on his worksheet, and then pauses. “Hey,” he says. He frowns down at the table. “You’re friends with Katelyn, right?”

“Who?”

Aaron frowns harder. “Katelyn Rivera. The cheerleader?"

"Oh, you mean pre-calc Katelyn."

"Yeah, her."

"We're not friends."

"But you talk to her, don't you?"

"Not really? She just sits next to me in class." Neil thinks. "She talks to me, I guess. But I think that's just because she's nice like that."

Aaron blows out a breath. Neil thinks he's going to end up with high blood pressure when he's older. Then again, he is biologically identical with Andrew.

"Look," Aaron says slowly, "I just wanna know if she's going to homecoming."

"Aren't all the cheerleaders going?" 

The look that Aaron sends him is furious enough to kill a small animal. Neil decides to give him a break before he rage quits as his tutor. 

"You want me to ask her if she wants to go with you?"

"No," Aaron says quickly. "Just ask her if she's going with somebody."

"Why don't you just ask her yourself?" 

"Because." Aaron shoves his worksheet back at him. Neil watches in fascination as his face starts to flush pink. "Just ask her, okay? Don't mention me, Josten."

Neil rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay. Now tell me what I got wrong here."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i guess you could call this chapter a filler chapter too but i can guarantee you that next chapter is extra long and contains more things Happening  
> -i'm very stretching the timeline of this but in my defense i'm canadian and idk what homecoming really is, apparently my uni has it but i was stuck working in a food truck my first year which put me off the event forever, so. #yike  
> -idk how your high school was but our school's weight room was this tiny thing next to the bleachers on the second floor of our big gym. the weight trainers would be in there doing their thing while the badminton team was messing around on the ground floor. i have hit a birdie against the window of that room before, scaring everyone including me  
> -i'm really not much more organized than neil in terms of school notes. sure i have separated sections for different classes on different days but i also tend to start writing fic in between these notes. i go to find the bullet points for marxist theory and instead i find some soft gays holding hands,  
> -i said this before and i'll say it again: allison can step on me and i'd thank her


	11. ANDREW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew vs. the actual homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see! i'm back in school for my last year of undergrad and i forgot that since i'm an arts kid, all my hmwk involves reading and spitting out pure bullshit. guess what i've been doing instead. that's right, catching up on fandom commitments.....  
> i did participate in the aftg remix event this year, so go check it out if you haven't already!! bonus points if u can guess which one is mine, ohoho >:)
> 
> no warnings for this one!

 

 

"Are you seriously wearing jeans and Converses to the dance," Aaron says.

Andrew shrugs. This is his only pair of non-ripped jeans, so it's not like he didn't make an effort. Meanwhile his brother is wearing a stupid tie. Sucker.

"You guys are so cute." Nicky is beaming, prancing around them with his phone camera out. 

" _It's homecoming_ ," Andrew signs at him. " _Not fucking prom_."

"Still," says Nicky. "It's rare that both of you would agree to go. I know it's because of team solidarity or something but still!"

"I can't believe we decided to crash homecoming," Aaron mutters. "What kind of a prank is that."

Andrew thinks about the mad gleam in Allison's eye when she announced the plan. He thinks about her looping her arm through Kevin's and the dread that crossed Kevin's face after. He can't say he really cares for team spirit but there's no way he's going to miss a chance to watch free entertainment. Especially if Kevin is getting the short end of the stick.

"Come on, boys, one more picture!"

In unison, Andrew and Aaron both put up their middle fingers at the camera. Nicky makes noises of disappointment. The usual. 

"I hope you kids have fun," says Nicky. "You know, sometimes I kind of miss high school dances. The awkward tension, embarrassing dancing, mind-numbing song choices..."

" _Hormones in the air so thick you can't breathe,_ " Andrew supplies.

"Okay, fine, high school dances are kind of terrible. Way too heteronormative. But you only get to experience youth once, right? And you're going with your team. That's the best part, right? What do you kids call it these days? Chilling with your homies?"

"Don't say those words ever again," Aaron says.

Nicky spouts a few more words just to make Aaron cover his ears dramatically. Andrew fiddles with the button on his blazer jacket. Nicky probably didn't attend many school dances during his high school years. It's not easy being out and proud in a black hole full of cowards and like-minded idiots. It was most definitely worse in a Christian private school, especially when you had to go home to the likes of Luther Hemmick.

Nicky doesn't talk much about his estranged parents. He doesn't need to. Andrew might never like Nicky's personality or just Nicky in general, but he can appreciate the guts it took to survive all of that. And somehow still strive to provide a welcoming and open-minded home for the disaster twins. He thinks Nicky will probably spontaneously combust if he ever realizes that Andrew is about as straight as a piece of macaroni. 

Eventually, after much prodding on Aaron's part and much embarrassing blubbering on Nicky's, they pile into the car. Nicky is dropping them off before his shift at Eden's. Aaron's fidgeting is worse than usual. Andrew is reading nervousness and anticipation, but something tells him Aaron's not that excited just for a shitty homecoming dance.

The parking lot is already full when Nicky pulls into it. There are students crowded by the gymnasium doors, out on the steps, across the grass. Allison's bright blue convertible is across the lot.

"Alright," Nicky says. "You guys have fun, okay? Don't start a fight, always ask for consent, and do not touch the punch because someone always spikes it. What else..."

"It's fine, Nicky," Aaron says, already one foot out the door. "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome!" Nicky beams. He catches Andrew's eye before he can climb out of the passenger seat. Nicky lifts his hands to sign, " _If you need to leave early, for whatever reason, just call me, okay?_ "

Andrew looks away. He signs back a quick _okay_ before following his brother out of the car. 

They find the rest of the team gathered by the bike racks. Allison is all dolled up, complete with glittery makeup and hot pink heels. Kevin has his hair slicked back, and even Seth looks half-decent. Andrew ignores Allison's disapproving look over his jeans. His fingers itch for a cigarette. He stuffs them in his pockets instead.

"Neil!" Matt waves. "Over here!"

Andrew turns. Walking up to them is indeed Neil Josten. He's dressed in black slacks and a dark gray dress shirt, both nondescript and yet fitted enough to make him look good. Andrew may not be out but he knows what he likes and he’s not ashamed of it. Not anymore, anyway. Apparently, Neil Josten putting in just a little bit of an effort in not looking like a dumpster gremlin is what Andrew likes.

"Huh," Allison says. "Considering what you wear most of the time, you clean up pretty nice."

“Um. Thanks,” Neil says. He tugs at the cuffs of his shirt. It’s just long enough to reach halfway to his knuckles. He looks uncomfortable with all the attention. Andrew turns away, feeling mildly irritated.

“Alright, let’s head in.” Allison claps her hands. “Homecoming is technically for all the sports teams, but we all know this is the football team’s turf. There are teacher chaperones, so avoid confrontations, people. We’re going to ruin those jerks’ night just by showing up here.”

“Yeah! Infiltrating enemy lines,” Matt whoops.

“I’ve got a masterplan closer to the end of the night,” Allison continues, “so just do your best to remind them that they barely won their homecoming game, alright?"

"We can promote our own game coming up next week," Dan suggested.

Allison points at her. "That's my captain. Now, disperse, my little exy babies!"

"I'm taller than you," Kevin says at the same time Sheena fake gags.

The inside of the gym is decorated with their school colours of agonizing orange and white. Gold streamers are strung along the walls. People are already twirling about the makeshift dance floor, while some no-name DJ who’s probably somebody's cousin is in the corner blasting the trash they allow on the radio these days. Andrew has barely stepped a foot into this dance and he already wants to leave.

He lingers behind the rest of the team. It's only because he's hovering reluctantly that he catches his brother's gaze drifting towards the group of cheerleaders standing by the balloon arch. More importantly, to one cheerleader in particular. 

He's not the only one who noticed. Allison flicks her darling blonde curls over her shoulder. "Aaron's got the right idea. Let's mingle, everyone! Destroy the footballers' pathetic attempts at getting laid tonight."

"You want us to be cockblockers?" Jack says. He looks torn between being incredulous and being offended.

"You said it, dude," Matt grins. "You know, if we got the cheerleaders on our side, we'd have a better chance of winning this war."

"What war," Jack says, but the team has already marched forwards, honing in on all the cheerleaders in the vicinity.

Bored of it all, Andrew makes a beeline for the refreshment table. He won't touch the punch but he figures the store-bought desserts are free game. He loads as many miniature cupcakes and tarts on his paper plate as possible and retreats to an empty corner. He snags a chair and digs in. 

He's two cupcakes and a piece of brownie in when none other than Neil Josten appears and drops into the empty chair beside him. 

"Not going to dance?" Neil signs at him. 

Andrew gives him a flat stare. He busies himself with another cupcake instead. But Neil just waits until Andrew makes the mistake of glancing over again. 

"I didn't think you would show up," Neil tells him. "Didn't seem like your scene."

With a sigh, Andrew sets aside his plate. His hands now free, he signs back, "Didn't seem like yours, either."

"I'm here in the name of team spirit. I don't know if I can say the same about you."

"Shouldn't you be flirting with some cheerleaders instead of being annoying in the corner?"

Neil shrugs. “I’m not interested.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “You swing for the other team?”

“I don’t. Swing at all, I mean.”

“Except exy racquets.”

Neil gives a small smile at that. "Except exy racquets."

Neither of them say anything for a moment. Neil is watching the adult chaperones attempt to stop horny teenagers from grinding on each other. It's not even that exciting of a song. Andrew shoves a tiny cream puff into his mouth.

Eventually, a slow song comes on, and Andrew has to look for something else to focus on. He kicks at the leg of Neil’s chair until Neil turns to look at him. “Who dressed you?”

“What do you mean? I did.”

“Bullshit. You usually show up to school looking like a hobbit who’s been living on the streets for weeks.”

“I wear hoodies and ripped jeans. You do, too.”

“My hoodies don’t look like they’ve been stuck inside a washer for the last twenty years, and my jeans came ripped, not because they’ve been worn one too many times.”

Neil frowns. “They’re clothes. Whatever.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Who dressed you? Allison?”

“No. My uncle did.” Neil's hands pause, then continue more slowly, “I told him I was going to this dance and he loaned me some of his old shirts that doesn’t fit him anymore. He’s British, I think, and doesn't believe in dressing casually. I don't think he owns a single pair of sweatpants."

“Cancel your plans tomorrow," Andrew tells him. "You’re going out with us.”

“Us? You mean, you and Aaron? Why?”

“I’m fixing the abomination you call a wardrobe. We’re going shopping.”

"What, no—"

"If you don't come with us, Allison is going to drag you out eventually. Your choice which circle of hell you'd rather endure."

Neil rolls his eyes. "Whatever. But I get veto power."

"Whatever," Andrew mocks.

He finishes up his plate of treats. There's a few pieces of fruit left on his plate that he picked off the little tarts. He places the plate back on the chair. He watches idly as Neil pokes at the fruit.

A presence at his shoulder makes him look up. Renee smiles at them both. " _Not going to dance?_ " she asks in sign.

Neil shakes his head. Andrew just gives her his usual stare. 

Allison pops up behind her. "Why are you losers being all emo in the corner?" she demands.

“ _You can’t sit with us,_ ” Andrew tells her.

Allison squints at him. “Renee, what did he say?” She waves her hand. “Never mind that, did you see the look on those jerks’ faces? The cheerleaders hate them, too, Marissa told me. Ha! Serves them right, those sexist pigs.”

“How’s your masterplan going, Allison?” Renee asks.

“Oh, honey, they’ve got a big storm coming.” Allison suddenly lights up. “I love this song! Come on, Renee, dance with me!”

Andrew watches them go. He turns back and signs at Neil, “You don’t have to keep me company.”

“I’m not,” Neil replies. “I’m avoiding people and you happen to have a ten metre kill radius around you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” Neil smiles, sharp and showing a dimple. Andrew cuts his eyes away. He stands up and grabs the empty plate from Neil to go for a refill. 

He’s just walking back to their corner when the music suddenly comes to a halt and the crowd starts hollering. Andrew dodges around the side. Spotlights are trained on the makeshift stage at the front of the gym. Someone’s got a microphone. There’s a screech of feedback, and everyone winces.

“Sorry,” the kid says. Andrew places his face as someone on the student council. “Ladies and gents, the moment you’ve all been waiting for... The crowning of the homecoming king and queen!”

Everyone cheers. Andrew shoves a cupcake in his mouth and continues his way back to his seat. Neil is watching the congregation with mild interest. The rest of their team is scattered throughout the room. Dan and Matt are leaning against each other, Seth is pouring himself another cup of punch, Renee is fixing the bow in her hair. The other freshmen are leaning along the opposite wall. Aaron is standing way too close to that cheerleader. Allison is watching the main event with a gleeful glint in her eyes, while Kevin stands beside her with a frown on his face. Andrew blinks. Since when were they friends?

He yawns, and misses the crowning of the king. Some footballer. Nickelback? No, that’s a band name. Quarter-something. Andrew refuses to learn the correct terms for that ugly sport. He tunes out. He’s going through a rigorous round of Which Dessert to Eat First when Neil makes a choking sound beside him.

Andrew looks up in time to see Student Council Joe carefully place the Homecoming Queen’s crown in Kevin’s dark curls.

“Ha,” Neil says out loud. His eyes are wide and his mouth is a wobbly shape, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or not. He catches Andrew’s eye. He points over to where Allison is standing in front of the stage, hands on her hips and chin lifted high. There’s a wicked smile on her face. “Did you know that was her plan?” he asks.

Andrew signs back, “No.” It wasn’t that hard to guess that Allison’s master plan had something to do with the homecoming king and queen. Andrew thought that she would have rigged it to crown herself, but clearly he’s underestimated her. Crowning Kevin, teenage celebrity of the ex-Raven and Moriyama-associated fame, wins any and all the attention that could possibly be given in a tiny-ass school full of self-absorbed teenagers.

Peering towards the stage, Andrew sees Allison’s smug smile and Kevin’s fanclub snapping away at their idol in a crown. Kevin himself is wearing that polite, camera-ready smile that never fails to make Andrew want to smack him, but he doesn’t look too uncomfortable. In fact, the crown suits him a little too well. Andrew glances around the gym for other reactions. He catches sight of the football team’s expressions, and snorts. 

When Neil looks over curiously, Andrew lifts his hands. “Brace yourself,” he tells him, “We've got a war on our hands.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i still don't know what homecoming is, and the only high school dance i attempted to go to, i was late and tried entering the back door but the teacher chaperone wouldn't let me in so i went and sat on the swings for half an hour like an idiot before walking back home  
> -listen nicky hemmick may have his flaws but he did a good in coming back for the twins. he [probably saved their lives](https://puddingcatbae.tumblr.com/post/188554728235/does-it-ever-just-hit-you-that-like-nicky) and i hope he knows i love him  
> -disaster gay andrew is the best andrew to write and u can't change my mind  
> -(foxes chanting) QUEEN KEVIN QUEEN KEVIN QUEEN KEV

**Author's Note:**

> note that i have no fluency in sign language, so if there are any glaring mistakes, pls don't hesitate to send me a message! 
> 
> fic title from "she (for liz)" by parachute  
>  _My vocal cords have been fighting  
>  My mouth likes to spite me  
> It never says the words that come to mind  
> And I brought a stick to a gun fight  
> And I'm stuck with my tongue tied  
> I run, but I can't hide what's always there_
> 
> find me poking fun at kevin day @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter!!


End file.
